Misfiled Lives
by dposcuro
Summary: Based off of the webcomic "Misfile". Features two new, original characters. Rated M strong language, occasional violence, and mature situations. I hope you enjoy the vacation from reality within my mind.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue pt. 1

Anthony

It was a slow day at work for Anthony, as he slowly stretched his arms, leaning against the heavy metal table. He was situated in front of a turret press, a large machine that was used to punch out parts for stoves and fireplaces. The striking of the punches was a rhythmic bass that could be felt through the solid concrete floor. Each strike was backed by a soft sound of a metal disk, the size of a quarter dropping down into the waste bin. Looking over to his right, Anthony peered at the computer screen, the read out telling him he had another 1257 hits to wait.

The thumping rhythm lulled Anthony back into his daydreams. His thoughts straying from his surroundings to his car parked outside, the 1986 Chevette that was extensively modified. He was dreaming of taking it out to the Autocross on Sunday, negotiating the tight course packed into the small oval track that was Western Speedway. Launch hard down the back straight, brake, hard left into the roundabout, then back out onto the straight. Head deep into the back corner, then around the kink of cones and accelerate down the front stretch. He paused, using his memory of the track to guess how fast he would be going by the third ad banner on the track wall, to anticipate when he should be braking for the tight hairpin. Then it was back up the front straight for the right-hander into the infield, and into the slalom. It was a quick right-left-right-left, fairly open. Flickable really. But it was tight enough that it could easily send the tail of his car too far sideways, and spin out of control if he went into it too fast, or kill his line into the final hard right corner into the stop box where the run would end. Hot sun on the track would make his tires stick like-

Slap! His thoughts were shaken and he launched himself at the emergency stop button. The red button clicked in, and the machine ceased its movement instantly. Collecting himself from his strange posture, Anthony stood up, and checked out the sheet of metal on the turret's table. He could instantly see it was askew, the front clamp having lost its grip on the steel when a punch lifted the sheet up with it. Sighing, he went about resetting the sheet, and the machine; waving to his supervisor that everything was fine.

As he punched buttons into the computer, clearing the error code, and resetting the table; a dark shadow fell over Anthony. Jumping slightly, he turned around to be face to face with the Shop Manager, Barry. Barry was a large man by any measure; about six foot three, an easy 210 lbs, he was an imposing figure. To make matters worse, his standard facial expression was of being unimpressed. Add to that his Newfoundland heritage, and most men thought it was wise to not mess up in front of him. Pulling off his hat and running his hand over his closely shaven hair, Barry sighed and asked, "Sheet pull?"

Anthony relaxed, "Yeah, I'll have it clear in a minute."

Nodding, Barry moved on. His large frame clothed in tan khakis and a black sweater with the company logo on the back headed for Anthony's supervisor, Will. Anthony watched Barry move on for a second before returning to work. Electric motors whirring as the table retracted, he stepped up to a slightly raised platform on the turret as the table stopped an inch away from his stomach. Bending over the bulkhead for the Y-axis drives and clamps, Anthony pulled the sheet of steel back, inspecting it for damage. There was a mild rise on one hole, indicating the problematic punch.

Two minutes later, Anthony returned from the tool room with a fresh tool, and inserted it into the machine. Closing safety doors, he moved back to the computer, resetting the emergency button as he went. Stepping up to the computer, he was about to restart the program when Barry's shadow closed in again, this time with a crisp white envelope in his right hand, extended out to Anthony, a stack of envelopes in his left. "Keep up the good work Anthony, and thanks for the overtime." Taking the Envelope, he nodded his thanks, and punched the start button.

Sitting at a red light, with the hard-edged sound of Diecast's "Peacemaker" spilling out of his open windows, Anthony eyed his pay stub. A little over a thousand. Four hundred of that would be going to Carson, his sister's fiancé, who would then pass it along to his co-worker. Final payment for the custom fibreglass fenders the guy was making. He looked up as the light turned green, and he turned left onto a road that turned into his street.

Pulling into the garage of the townhouse he rented with two other guys, he eyed his tool chest. He mentally dismissed it, all he wanted was to shower, sit down, and relax. Climbing the stairs, he trudged into the bathroom and set the water running. Stripping down, he tossed his towel over the curtain rod, and made his way past the navy blue divider. He paused, hearing the phone ring..._I could...not wet yet...hell with it._ Ignoring the phone, he stepped into the steaming spray.

Thirty minutes later, all memory of the phone call forgotten, he sat in front of his computer screen, catching up with his e-mail, message boards, and the inevitable e-bay dredging would send him to late, and unproductive bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Prologue pt.2

Robyn

The pencil glided over the page, leaving thin, light grey particles of graphite embedded on the surface of the paper. Time moved slowly as the sketch took form, and grew from a singular line into a blossoming flower. Shadows emerged, defining the petals, the texture of the leaves. The stem struck the ground, and the world exploded from ground zero. The soil, the small shrub beside the flower. The empty page became filled with a greyscale rendition of the blackberry bush in a contorted war with a chain link fence. A slender, pale hand guided the graphite tip, smoothly transforming the empty page into an elegant sketch of nature.

Hours slipped by the hunched figure that sat upon a park bench, her gaze flicking between the scene before her, and that which she was creating. The sun's heat was kept off of her by the canopy of trees in the small local park, located deep in the urban sprawl of Victoria. The artist paused her work, as an elderly couple neared. They gave her an awkward nod and smile, and continued on. _That's right...ignore me_. Realizing how her back ached from being hunched over for...how long was it? Straighten her back amplified the aches into pains, and she grimaced. The voluminous black sleeve pulled back, baring her watch. Sneaking a glance at the arms, she estimated that it was approximately 4:15. Slouching back down, her spine's protests silenced. Toying with the idea to just stay put, and keep perfecting the sketch until daylight ended...but there was coffee to be had.

Pencil to the little black bag, stained with chipped, peeled, and sullied whiteout; the ancient designed lost to time. The sketchbook, its pages ragged from use, was non-chalantly crammed back into her over-stuffed backpack that was held together in equal measure by the band patches, and safety pins. Pencil bag into the front pocket, and closed with vibrant neon green pin.

Standing up, the leather boots creaked softly, as her immense jeans slumped back down, buckles and zippers softly plinking off one another. Adjusting the loose "Arch Enemy" t-shirt under her aged black leather jacket, she slung the backpack over her shoulders, and left the quaint park. Large black headphones covered her ears, and as she thumbed the remote, the CD player in her backpack spun up, and supplied her with the sound of a rainstorm, the opening track to the Ashes to Embers album from Eyes of Fire.

The hike down to QV's took her another half an hour, not the least to blame was the stifling heat. She was forced to walk slowly, at a steady pace lest she risk breaking out into a sweat as the mongrels around her shopped and met up, all wearing the lasted fashions, talking to each other on the latest cell phones, or ignoring each other with their iPods. Everything they did was just mass consumerism.

The cafe was at the entrance to China Town, and was a local hangout for...just about anyone. It didn't matter who you were, just so long as you could think outside of the "Starbox". As she walked through the open main doors, a black sleeve beckoned her over, and she nodded, first ordering herself a chai tea. The table was filled with those whom she felt most comfortable around, the local "Goth" kids. Truth be told, they weren't "Goth", but it was as close as any label, and seemed to have stuck with them. It was an unusually early coffee meet this Friday, as most were going to a show in support of a local band that was the opening act.

The conversations were diverse, ranging from what shit was on the radio now, to how ridiculous the current economic status was. How the hell was Bush the president down south, to why did chicken taste just so damned good? Alliances were built, and then sundered as people of different views banded together to out-debate the others. But the verbal wars were short-lived, for those who were going to the venue, bailed at seven.

Robyn caught a bus, headed in the general direction of home. She sat at the back, and watched the familiar cityscape roll past. The shadows were stretched as the sun sank for the horizon. She could see her reflection in the window, and loathed it. An awkward mix of Italian and....everything. Her black hair hung to just below her ears, all cut the same length. Her face thin, almost gaunt. Lips thin, unpretty. Worse were her eyes. Though she couldn't see them due to the contacts, her eyes distinguished her. Made her recognizable. She had been ridiculed about her eyes throughout her life...her one vibrant green, and one dark brown eye.

In the seats on the other side of the bus, and a little forward, she should see the reflections of some yuppie girls glaring at her. Slowly their voices got louder, penetrating the musical shield. Finally she closed her eyes, turned her head, and opened them again, the all black contacts staring down the two girls, "Freak!" cried the blonde.

"Whore," was the soft reply.

"What did you just say Goth bitch?" The little girl was intent now, rising, trying to quell her prey.

A booted leg swung off the sideways facing bench, and Robyn braced herself, making it obviously apparent that she was much taller. "Whore."

The blond girl slunk back, cowed, but not finished. "Fucking Goths, think they're better than everyone. Cunts should just go commit suicide. All of them." Robyn reached up and pulled on the yellow cable, signalling for a stop. "Feh, coward. Running to your little Goth friends?"

Standing up, and shouldering he engorged pack, Robyn glared down at the two. Her near six-foot height amplified by the boots, making her 6'2". The girl was instantly silent. When the bus stopped, Robyn stepped out, onto the sidewalk.

The trek home just a bit back, and up the steep Russel street to Henry Rd. The house was marked by the overgrown weeds that dominated the front yard and garden, peeling paint and unwashed windows. She tried to gain access without notice, but her stepfather was already home. Inside, her sense of smell was accosted by the stale cigarette smoke, and sharp stench of bad marijuana. "Bitch, where the fuck you been?" The deep bass voice of Gord came from the filthy living room. Stacks of newspapers piled in an old table chair. The carpet was hidden from view, except in the threadbare high-traffic lanes, which were kept clear of clutter. An ashtray on the coffee table so full, it had started spilling over. Rolling papers scattered, and two bottles of Jack Daniels...one empty, and the second on its way to the same fate. The living room was lit by sunlight, filtered through stained curtains, a single 60-watt bulb lamp, and the glow of the old TV.

"Piss off Gord, you don't care anyways." She slung her heavy pack to the floor by the entrance, and started for the washroom.

"Don' you fucking talk to me like that Robyn! I been fucking waiting for diner for a god damned fucking hour!" The man was belligerent already. "_Now get in the fucking kitchen and make me a god damned sammich already bitch!"_

Biting her tongue, she beat down the urge to tell him to make it himself. _Get off your fat ass!_ She snarled and did it anyways. Throwing together a sandwich thick enough to shut the fat bastard up for now. Throwing it onto a plate, she took it to Gord, and handed it to him, almost violently.

Sneering, he took the plate and inspected it as she turned around. His thick right hand snatched her wrist, spinning the waif-like girl around. "Robyn, the hell is this shit? This is goddamned bologna! You fucking well know I hate that fake meat shit! Are you fucking trying to piss me off?"

"You said, to make you a sandwich Gord. You never specified what kind. Not only that, we only _have_ bologna in the fridge!" She slapped his hand from her wrist. _Because you haven't gotten off your fat ass to buy any more food you cock sucker!_ She added mentally.

Snarling, he threw the plate at her feet. "Get me some fucking soup then." He reached out and took a swig from the almost empty bottle of Whisky.

Stepping back from him, she turned around, "Fuck off Gord, get off your fat ass and make it yours-AUGH!" The bottle clattered to the floor beside her. She was face down on the repulsive green carpet, with an ache from hell between her shoulder blades. Stunned, she tried to move, and that's when his weight hit her, a thundering palm slamming her against the putrid fibres...she could see something moving in them before the world went wild with static.

The slap across the side of her head _stung!_ Gord repeated the "discipline". "Bitch, you stupid fucking _bitch!_ I work all fucking day, I pay for your shit, and this is how you fucking treat me? You're not even my own fucking daughter and I treat you like my own!" His breath mingled with the toxic fumes from the horror her nose was pressed into. "No child of mine would be so fucking ugly. No child of mine would be so ungrateful. You are not my fucking child!" The weight lifted...She rolled over slightly to breath in stale air, but even the rancid shit from the floor was better than the foot she received to her stomach. "Remember that. You are _NOT_ mine!"

Coughing, sputtering, gasping for air, she wheezed on the floor. When she finally regained some of her breath, she staggered to her room, dragging her backpack with her. The tears flowed endlessly as she locked her door. She fell against the cheap desk, and her bed. Between the mattress and the box spring, she found what she was looking for.

A thin blade of steel that he held carefully in her right hand. The edge glided through the skin, leaving thin, red lines in that drew up glistening crimson beads. The line curved as the pain seared through her mind like fire, blinding her to to the day. This was her true art. Her true masterpiece. The scars would be the tale of her autobiography. Each cut, each slice telling more words than any single picture could. Tears fell until she fell asleep, a single rivulet of blood tracing down her leg.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 1 – Perfect Errors

Anthony woke with a start. He could feel a presence in his room. Blearily, he fumbled above his head for his reading lamp, and it clicked on. Blinded momentarily he screwed his eyes shut before cracking his right eye to peer around his room. Sitting across the room in his computer chair sideways, arms crossed over the back of the grey seat and with pure white hair falling off her shoulders, "Wha'the'ell? Who the fuck are you?!" His bleary eyed grogginess was drawn into sharp focus at the full realization that there WAS someone in his room, and not someone he knew.

She seemed to cringe slightly at the reference to Hell, "No need to blaspheme, and I'm Cassiel." Her voice was sweet and soft, musical was perhaps the best way to describe it. She carefully pushed some of her draping hair back over his left shoulder, revealing her unnaturally pointed ears and their associated multiple piercings.

"Alright, Cassiel," he muttered as he sat upright in the old bed, the springs creaking softly, "Now start explaining just what the fuck you're doing in my room, in the middle of the god damned night?! I didn't go to no damned bar..last...night." He paused, sudden realization dawning over his still partially asleep, and very shocked mind. Something was wrong with his voice. It was several octaves too high, almost like he'd inhaled helium, but softer, more natural sounding. "The hell is this?! My voice?" Launching the covers off himself, he sprang to his feet, glaring at the figure of Cassiel, "I don't know what the hell this is, but you better star...KAH!?"

His tirade was shut down instantly as Cassiel spread her expansive white wings. "I really wish you could cut down on the blaspheme, I may not be the most respected of angels, but I am still an Angel."

Sudden shock caused Anthony to stumble backwards and fall backwards onto the bed. "...impossible? Shit like this doesn't exist! It doesn't happen!"

"Exactly!" Cassiel beamed as she leaped from the chair, and concealed her wings once again. "This sort of thing _doesn't_ happen, not intentionally mind you. But of course, if it were to be found out that it does happen, it'd be a big problem, angel's will get in trouble, archangels might get involved, and other notable figures might try to use it as an excuse to start getting uppity, so you can see why we need to keep this quiet, right?"

Somewhere in the middle of her ridiculous monologue, he had sat back up and leaned forward with his forehead in his hands, he let her finish, only to ask the obvious, "Keep _what_ exactly quiet?"

"Oh?" Cassiel's cheerfulness collapsed into confusion, "You mean, you haven't noticed yet?"

"Noticed what exactly? That there's an angel in my room? That I'm having a really fucked up dream? Uhhh...that you're utterly fucking crazy?"

"Oh...I guess the shock of me being here has distracted you from the crux of the matter. Be a dear and look down at yourself for a moment."

A brow rose out of curiosity, and he did as commanded. Splitting his hands, he looked down at himself...or rather, at someone else's body. Stunned, he reached down and poked on of the offending lumps stuck to his rib cage under the soft white fabric of an old shirt. His eyes then followed the slender hand past the wrist and then to his slight legs. Blinking slowly, he looked back to his chest. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Ahhh well, unfortunately not. You see, my ex-boyfriend, Rumisiel made a bit of an error up in the Celestial Filing Depot where he worked. You see the idiot put your file into the wrong drawer, and now, you are as you are! Also There is.."

"_WHAT?!_ You mean to tell me, that your idiot ex just fucked over my life by mistake?! Then why the hell don't you go back to Heaven or whatever, and fix this fuckup?! Why doesn't he?! Just go, fix it, and I will forget this whole shit!"

"Well, it's not quite that simpl.."

"Bull-fucking-shit it ain't! If it's that easy to fuck up, it's that easy to fix!"

"Look, Rebekkah, Oh, you're Rebekkah now by the way; it isn't that simple. Rumisiel was kicked out of Heaven as a disciplinary measure for what he was doing before he mis-....you know, just a second, I'd really rather not have to explain this twice! Just take this for now, you're gonna need it!" She picked up something from the desk and tossed it to Anthony, before she winked out of existence. He looked down to what she had tossed him...a Fuzzy Purple book with a cute monkey design on the front cover.

He took a moment...which stretched to over three minutes before he opened the cover, and started to read the first page,

Rebekkah Hall

Diary

July 24, 2002 -

The book slapped closed and he wrenched it to his forehead with a painful crack. "Well...there goes that fucking brilliant idea....I ain't sleeping." He sighed deeply as the pain started to wear out; "Fuck me."

He jumped as Cassiel snapped back into his room, with someone else in tow. The girl had cropped black hair, and looked absolutely horrified, and about ready to descend into outright panic. Cassiel pointed her to the computer chair, and the girl sat, obediently. "Alright!" Cassiel said cheerfully, "Anthony, meet Robyn Goshen, She's nineteen, considers herself Gothic, and has lost the last two years of her life, making her seveteen" She paused, and then reversed the introduction, "Robyn, this is Rebekkah Hall, she is actually Anthony Hall, a 21 year old male and is now female."

Robyn seemed to just sink further away, while Anthony muttered, "You'd better start explaining exactly how this happened, and how and when it is going to be fixed."

"Okay!" Cassiel bounced it seemed, a bit...happy. "You see, Rumisiel is a bit of an 'off white' angel if you get my meaning. He was smoking some herb while on the job, apparently, and his superiors caught him, and sent him here to Earth. The problem is, you see, he had mixed some files up while in a rush to conceal his slacker nature just before his boss' came in. Now, he's here on Earth for a while, serving his penance, and can't get back into Heaven to fix anything. And until he can do so, you guys are unfortunately stuck like this, so try not to draw attention to yourselves, or upper management will, to save their own asses, fix everything like this, as though it always has been this way."

"You've got to be fucking kidding...You know how many times I came close to fucking suicide the past two years?! And now you're fucking forcing me through that blatant bullshit congregation of idiotic shits they call School?!" Both Cassiel and Anthony turned to look at Robyn, who was sitting on the chair, looking extremely strung out and horrified.

"Sorry, but I do not have any say in the matter, and I have to run and..."

Anthony cut her off sharply, "Where on Earth is this Rumisiel? And why the hell isn't he here helping us?!"

Cassiel blinked, "Oh, I thought I told you already, he's in Massachusetts helping two others out, Emily and Ash. As I was saying, I need to be out of here before anyone upstairs knows I was ever here!" Instantly she blinked out again.

Silence filled the room as the two were left stewing in their thoughts. Finally Anthony picked up the diary again, and flipped it open to the first page of writing, and began reading. It wasn't long before he heard the soft voice across the room, "Uhm...what are you reading?"

Pausing, he placed a hand in the spiral bound book, and looked up to Robyn. "A diary. If this shit is real, how else am I supposed to learn about who the hell this," he paused, searching for the right words, "female alter-ego is?"

The girl sitting in the chair looked at him strangely, "What? How the hell are you acting so calm!?"

"Oh, well, what else is there to do?" He shrugged, carelessly.

"Oh, I don't know?! Freak out? Rage? Vent? Do _something!? For fucks sake! I just lost 2 years out of my life! I was out of fucking highschool!_ I had graduated, I...I was going to move the fuck out as soon as I found a job! Now I have to go back through that hell again, have all those ignorant bitches pull shit on me!"

"Your point being?_" _His voice grew higher, "Just at _what_ am I supposed to get pissed at? If this horseshit is real, the only one who can help us, is apparently three thousand fucking miles east of us! Should I yell and scream at you or something? Will that solve anything?! Fuck no! So the only thing I _can_ do, is atleast try to adapt somewhat to this horseshit, so that I don't fuck up and apparently make some bullshit angel bureaucratic fucktards fix us like this! So what exactly, do you fucking want me to do?! For fucks sake, if this is real? Then you just have to go through 2 years of fucking school; I've lost....who the fuck knows what? How different is this Rebekkah from who I am? How differently was she raised? What does she know? Who the fucking hell are her friends? What does she even do for work?! Seriously, what the fuck are you bitching about you stupid, ignorant fuck? School? Mine sucked, but you know? I wish I could go back to it versus facing debt work, and bills. But no,fuck! Who..am I?" He started sobbing, "Fucking christ, look at me! I'm a fucking crying over this, and I don't know if it's me or some emotional bullshit!"

Robyn stumbled it hit her like a wrecking ball; she atleast knew what laid ahead for her, this Anthony was being thrust utterly clueless into a new life...possibly without the skillsets that they needed to keep people from wondering if Rebekkah had just completely lost it, "I...I---shit! I don't know?! I-I'm sorry..." pushing back tears of her own, she stood and walked over to sit down next to Rebekkah, putting a hand on her shoulder. Looking around the room, her eyes fell on the clock, it was 3:36.

Morning dawned, warm light filtered by the blinds of the west facing window coated the room in an orange-toned glow. Robyn shivered, and rose. Fear gripped her, where was she? She put her left hand down to brace herself, but found something warm and fleshy...recoiling, she looked beside herself and the nightmare was turned to reality. Taking a deep breath, she crawled off the bed, her toes reaching the soft carpet as he moved for the computer chair. Her eyes scanned the small room; double bed stuck in the corner of the room across from the window, a small black and clear plastic four drawer chest between the bed and the computer desk. The desk itself was a bit of a different type, having a tall sideways hutch on the left hand side, against the wall. The computer and monitor sat on the desk and the far side of the desktop was supported by a metal pole. Next to the desk was a dresser, followed by the wall, which into it was cut a deep pocket for the door. Beside the door was the shallow closet, partially opened, and finally between the closet and the bed, a small, half-height bookshelf, half of it loaded with CDs. Looking back to the blinds, and the way they were fluttering, she figured that the window was open. Curiosity got the best of her, and she stood to lean over the desk and crack a leaf down and pear into the early morning of where she was.

They seemed to be on the second story of a house, on a hill, looking down over a quiet little suburban neighbourhood, although part of the view was blocked by a great Oak tree a bit down the property. She couldn't really tell where she was, it could have been anywhere. Sighing, he got up and shivered slightly, she usually kept her room much warmer than this, and when only dressed in her boxers and ancient Ozzy tshirt, she felt the cool air quite easily. She hoped Rebekkah wouldn't mind if she borrowed some socks and pant...wait...this chick was a guy? She was just in the same bed sleeping with some...guy...chick...person?

She waited for it...but the revulsion never hit, but rather a wave of confusion. There were so many questions, she wanted to run over there and start asking...but...she turned her attention to the dresser. Quietly opening the top drawer, she struck pay dirt, Socks and underwear. Well, at least something was normal. She plucked a pair of thick socks from the drawer and pulled them on. In the closet she found an old pair of sweat pants, which kind of...well perhaps didn't really fit her at all.

She moved to the door and slowly cracked it open, before looking over her shoulder to the sleeping figure of Rebekkah and paused. She was lucky, she was pretty, probably had been popular in highschool...nice features, clear skin, soft, shoulder length brown hair with natural red highlights. In school, she would probably have been the type of girl she would have loathed.

Shaking her head slightly, she cracked open the door and slipped out. Closing the door softly behind her, she turned around to see, the layout of this home. Straight across from Anthony's door was another closed door, and right beside it, on her left (towards the window) was another door leading into the bathroom (which she quickly used). On her right was a waist height half-wall, with a solid wood top about four inches wide that acted as a railing to the stairwell. Further to her right opened into a large living room, furnished with black leather couches, an oblong coffee table, with several magazines scattered across it, and a pair of empty bowls. The two couches were arranged in a sort of "V" shape, so one could easily lay upon a couch and watch the large LCD screen. Behind the couches on the far wall, was a sliding glass door, closed with venetian blinds.

The windows however, grabbed her attention, as they looked out into a thick, lush forest. She walked silently over to to the window directly infront of her, and peered out into the early morning light, that barely filtered through the pine canopy, and saw atleast four deer picking their way along a trail quite close to the house. Beneath her, was a small backyard, in the far right corner was a raised garden bed nestled in a rock wall, on the far left was wooden garden shed.

When she turned to her left, she was standing next to row of four chairs tucked in next to the overhanging counter of the kitchen. In the same counter was a large double sink, and in the deep corner on the exterior wall was a dinning nook, with simple round wooden table and four more chairs. The counter then picked up again for a small width, just enough for the coffee maker before giving way to a white stove, and back to the rest of the counter that created an L shape to the fridge and then the tall, built in pantry. The cupboards above the stove, and everything else was finished in typical white laminate, and the counter tops looked like fake marble.

On the bar-counter above the sink was an array of liquor bottles, as well as the phone, and an answering machine. The red light was blinking, and out of curiosity, she noted that it appeared to have three new messages. She couldn't resist temptation, besides: Reb...Anthony? Would they really care? They had other things on their mind; she pressed play.

The first message was from 4:43 yesterday afternoon, a man's voice, "Yo, Rebekkah! This is Jason. Look, Mike and I are headed to a house party tonight, give us a call if you wanna come and chill. Seriously, you gotta get some time to chill once in a while girl! Call us!"

The second came in at 5:32 last night, the voice was older, female, and full of worry and nervousness, "Rebekkah honey, it's mom. Your Grandmother Ivy? She's taken a turn for the worse. I know you're busy sweetie, but I need you to take care of Phantom an the cats okay? I'm sorry this is such short notice, but your father and I are headed out tonight, we booked a flight for 8 PM. We don't really know what's wrong, but she in the Hospital in Yorkton. Please call me to let me know you got this message!"

The third message was again from Anthony/Rebekkah's mother, "Rebekkah, please, pick up the damned phone! I need to know if you can take care of the animals! We're at the airport already, and no one else is available right now! Please, Please give me a call soon!"

"Shit, what was that about?"

"AIIKE!" Robyn jumped, her heart was racing as she turned around to face Rebekkah, who she could now see, stood about an average 5'7" tall. "Jesus, don't _do_ that! Anyways, it was your mother...apparently your grandmother Ivy is in a hospital and she needs you to take care of their pets for a week."

Anthony's eyes widened , "Fucking christ! You're serious? When did she leave those messages?!"

"Uhh...around 5 and 8 last night, they took the 8pm flight last night. Why?"

"Shit! Because Phantom usually needs to go outside around 11 at night, and 6 in the morning...and it's 8 right now! Come on, we gotta run!"

"And no food either, poor thing! But...why this rush? She can hang on another few minutes right?"

"Yeah, but my parents live out in Sooke." She pointed to a cupboard above the stove, "Grab some Nutrigrains and meet me down stairs. I'm starving, and I need hunt down my wallet and keys!"

"Look for a purse!" Robyn called over her shoulder as she walked hurriedly into the kitchen and found the mixed box of the cereal bars.

When she got downstairs, she found Anthony pulling on some sneakers, looking around she paused, realizing that she had no shoes to wear, Anthony simply commented, "Don't worry about shoes, car should be clean," A sudden look of realization crossed his feminine face.

Ripping the door to the garage open forcefully and flicking on the lights, he was greeted with a somewhat unexpected sight. Rather than his highly modified, mis-matched painted panels, and generally ugly Chevette, sitting in the garage was a rather tiny, square-ish box of a car, stepping down to the concrete slab slowly, he stared at it, the gears whirring in his head, but not making any connections. Was it his...rather Rebekkah's? One of his roomates? What?

Robyn peered in over his shoulder out of curiosity, "Well, it's small? And I'd venture to say cute, but what is it?"

Anthony slowly circled the little Maroon cube, which was backed into the garage and seemed to take up only half the space available. Small aftermarket wheels, but the body looked stock from what he vaguely remembered. Walking past the drivers side, he commented, "It's a Suzuki, that was never sold here in Canada. They made it for the Kei-Jidoshya class in Japan, which is a class of small cars that were cheaper to insure, park, own. This is an Alto Works." He paused as he came around to the tailgate, stooping down to look at a small sticker tucked onto the back corner, "Hmmm, Garage Uchiide. I'll need to see who they are and what they do, and I think this IS my car now. Rebekkah's keys are for a Suzuki. Oh, and steering wheel is on the other side from what we are used to."

Climbing into the small vehicle, they were greeted by an interior straight out of the early nineties. The dash was for the most part, a flat shelf except for the instrument cluster. The gauges a bit odd looking, and marked only in metric. But there was a new cd player installed in the dash. The sport seats though, were comfortable with good support, Although the car was ridiculously small, it didn't feel like they were excessively cramped for space. When Anthony started the car, the cabin filled with a slightly odd off-beat thrum from the engine.

Looking up, Anthony found the garage door opener on the sun-visor, and prodded the button. As the door opened, filling the garage with light, Anthony started familiarizing himself with the controls. Locating wipers, lights, and other ancillaries. A few moments later, he pushed in the clutch pedal and shifted, slightly awkwardly with his left hand, into first. Promptly the car stalled. "This...is going to be interesting," he muttered.

"Something wrong?"

"Well, aside from being on the wrong side of the car, and shifting with my left hand; this thing has no torque." The car started again, and with a few extra revs, he got the car rolling. Another prod of the garage door opener, and rolled down to the road.

Robyn though, was slightly confused, "No torque? Why is that?"

"Well, it's powered by a 550cc, turbocharged engine. The smallest engine in most cars sold today is somewhere around 1.6 liters, or roughly three times this car's engine. Anyways, small engines don't make much torque, just the way the physics work. Torque is the twisting force that the engine produces, and is what gets a car moving at slow speeds. This car is light though, so it can get away with having very little torque." Anthony explained as they turned onto to the road and headed out of the sub-division, past the small gas station.

"So it's gutless in otherwords?"

"Well, I wouldn't go quite that far, but it is close...maybe." He grinned as he downshifted back into second, using the close-ratio boxes gearing as he buried the throttle into the carpet. The turbo was spooled instantly, helping to hustle the car around the corner, and down the hill. He shifted again, back into third, pushing the car hard as the exhaust note merrily tore through the forest, as they bottomed out in the small ravine before climbing back up and around towards the intersection with the highway. Pulling into the left hand turn lane, he smiled to Robyn. "As I said, not exactly gutless. Stock these put out something like 64 horsepower. This one I think, was mildly modified when it was still in Japan, before being sold. At the very least, someone turned the boost up a little. It's not much, but small improvements are noticeable in a car this light."

She shook her head, the way this thing accelerated was atleast on par with Gord's piece of shit Buick, but that had a lot more power. "But you said this thing doesn't make torque?"

With the change of the light Anthony joined the highway in the direction of Sooke. The tiny car drawing a few looks from driver's headed in the other direction. As they climbed the hill, Anthony kept it sedate, not exactly wishing get a speeding ticket while driving through town. "Heh, I was meaning down low in the rev range. Below about 2500 revs, it is gutless. The midrange is where it keeps its power. It does have a 9000 redline, but it runs out of breath before then.

"Anyways, check the glovebox, what kind of music does Rebekkah listen to?"

"Welll..." Robyn clicked open the glovebox and found nothing, snapping it closed, she reached under the seat and pulled out a soft-covered CD case. Flipping it open, she grimaced, "...Nickleback, Sugar Ray, Britney...Can I just burn this? Please?"

"Only one question before agreement: What albums from Sugar Ray, and Nickleback?"

"Ehn...Silver Side Up, The Long Road, and for Sugar Ray, 14:59...and Floored."

Anthony thought about it, "Keep Floored. Feel free to start slinging discs out the window, or keep them for destruction."

"Floored?" Robyn muttered disapprovingly.

"Yeah, they were originally a punkish, grungy, uh...alternative rock band before 14:59. The song, "Fly" is what caused them to sell out. Otherwise, the rest of the album is good music. Nothing like God Forbid, Mudvayne or Alice in Chains, but it has earned a steady rotation in my collection for a long time."

With reserved doubts, Robyn agreed, and put the disc into the player. "Seriously? You? God Forbid?"

"Hey!" Anthony looked at Robyn with a smirk, "I wasn't always a hot girly girl here! Besides, just listen."

From the first, digitized _"I am!"_ of the initial track track, Robyn listened with a critical ear. About three songs in and as they were pulling into the four-lanes of the highway to Sooke, she commented, "Not what I was expecting. But not really to my tastes. Mostly I listen to Goth Metal, Industrial metal, you know?"

"Oh, I definitely know what you mean," Anthony smirked as the car accelerated up to the speed limit, and a bit beyond to match the pace of traffic, "But Goth and Industrial just do not make for good driving music. There's a severe lack of energy to get a good flowing rhythm going. One of my favourite bands for that is Kyuss. The music just rolls and I just feel compelled to pace myself to the music. Anyways, whoa..." His voice trailed off as his head pivoted to follow a gorgeous blue 1969 Trans-Am headed in to town. As he did, several strands of hair found their way into his mouth, "Augh, bloody hell!"

Robyn couldn't help herself and just laughed at Anthony's predicament. "You'll get used to it...maybe."

"To be honest, I'd rather not. I'd rather go kick this Rumisiel in the ass for this horseshit, but he appears to be several thousand miles away." Grumbled the Brunette as he focused on driving again. As the road went on, the mountains began to close in on the highway, before finally squeezing it back into the narrow two lane stretch of worn, rough pavement; veined with crack sealant and patch repairs. Yet rather than slow down as the signs decreed to sixty, he kept the hundred kilometre an hour pace, weaving the small Suzuki over the slightly jinking road, over the small crests, and down into the first corner. Clutch in, downshift, release, and gas. Keeping the small three pot engine boiling as he raced for the next corner. A lift of the throttle bought enough retardation to their velocity to hurry through the short right hander onto the miniscule straight that lead to a sweeping left hand with a deceptively sharp secondary left handed hook at its tail.

Robyn watched with a mild amazement at the speed with which they were carrying though these corners. She'd never been in a car travelling this fast on Sooke Road, and simply put, she thought Anthony was perhaps a little suicidal at the moment, but with the combination of the energetic music, she was finding it more exhilarating than anything. She may have been clutching the door grip tightly, but it was a shocked grin on her face that displayed her true reaction. But as they barreled for the sharp left, she let out a slight squeak of fear before Anthony dashed the brakes, sending the nose of the car into the weathered ashphalt in search of traction before scooting the car around and into the fast section of shallow esses that undulated over the side of the mountain. However, the sight of truck they were rapidly approaching drew a swift halt to the excitement.

"Holy hell! That...that was insane!" Robyn half giggled nervously.

"Heh, not really, pretty much any car on the road except some thing ridiculously heavy and on shit tires could carry similar speed through there. My dad drives an old Dodge 600 Turbo and pretty much cruises the whole road at 80 to 110 in the morning on his way into work. I was playing it safe since I don't know the car, the condition of the tires, and for your sake. Course, now we're stuck behind one of these types who follows the speed limit religiously. Anything else tolerable in that CD case?"

It turned out that there was something else tolerable in the CD case, an old Tea Party album, The Edges of Twilight. He smirked slightly at that, seeing occasional parallels between his, and Rebekkah's lives. The more relaxed musical style led them to cruise into Sooke behind the truck.

As they pulled into Anthony's parent's driveway, Robyn looked at house slightly wistfully before climbing out of the car. It was a fairly plain old house, single storey with basement. But the location was beautiful, with stunning views of the Harbour and the Juan De Fuca straight beyond it to the shores of Washington State. Smiling, she followed the shorter girl...or boy? Up from the driveway to the path that divided the front yard from the garden beside the drive, and up to the stairs that led into the house. She could hear the barking, whining, and howling coming from inside as Anthony inserted his keys into the lock and gave it a twist. Suddenly he stopped and looked back to Robyn, and motioned for her to step back against the old steel railing, "She's small, and she's going to explode out of there..."

Opening the door just a crack was met with a forceful yank that ripped the door handle out of Anthony's hand when small dog used her muzzle to pry the door open. She barreled out of the doorway, her tail whipping Robyn's legs as she flew down the stairs and out onto the grass, not making it more than five feet before stopping. Laughing at the scene, but bending down to grasp her wounded leg Robyn had to ask about the curious looking dog that stood about ten inches at the shoulder, about two feet long (three with that ridiculously strong tail), and disproportionately weighted in her chest vs her hind quarters. "Just what kind of a jog is she? And OW! Her tail hurts!"

Anthony chuckled, "Corgi, Black Lab, German Shepperd. She weighs about forty pounds, is strong like an ox, dumb like a box of rocks. She's actually a runt of a litter of eight. Which were all crammed into a dog slightly smaller than she herself is. She's overly energetic, always happy, always wants to play, and will lick your face off if you give her half a chance. She's like ten years old, but you'd never know it." He chuckled and held the screen door open for Robyn to enter.

Stepping into the house, she was immediately aware of the stale scent of cigarette smoke that hung in the air. She stooped to undo her shoes when Anthony toucher her shoulder, "Don't bother. This carpet has been here since the day we moved in, and that was when I was three. Anyways, need to go get the dog some food ready. Anthony moved for the kitchen, and Robyn followed him in silence, while she examined the layout of the house. The entry had the living room to the immediate left, past a small, black and white painted brick waist high outcrop by the door, which held a number of leashes, collars, balls, and atleast two umbrellas in a metal depression. Under the massive window, sat a fairly large old Tube-T.V. Set on a wood, or fake wood stand, an electric organ in the front, far-side corner, an off-white chair with it's matching couch sitting angled against the far corner. A light-pine looking coffee table was located in front of the couch, and the pale hardwood floor was covered by a rather pretty Persian carpet. Across from leash stand, making the entry to the living room was more of the white and black brickwork, with a suitably large, and solid looking wood mantel that seemed to wrap around from the living room. Upon it were numerous small figurines and trinkets. Dead ahead, was a hallway that lead into a darkened cross hall, with a massive wooden display panel on the left, holding a variety of decorative/collector spoons, along with a second, smaller rack, that held again, more spoons. On her right, was a large wooden bookcase, jammed full with large old hardcover book collections, encyclopedias, a dictionary, and an excessively large Britannica Atlas book. And beyond it, was a large opening in the hallway wall, that she found led into the dining room.

The dining room held a sturdy looking wooden table and chairs, half of it covered in some kind of paper work, with a space cleared near the closest end for a sheet of paper listing contact numbers, and thanking Rebekkah again. In the corner was a short, two drawer metal filing cabinet with a small TV set on top of it. The floor, like most of the upstairs common area floor, was covered in a rather ghastly old brown carpet, that had been beaten down in all of the high traffic areas, but had yet to become threadbare. In the far corner of the room, nestled under the counter to the kitchen was a red and beige kennel, topped by a stack of magazines and old newspapers. Again, on the exterior wall, was a wonderfully large window, displaying the Sooke Harbour, the East Sooke hills, and the Strait of Juan De Fuca like a perfect painting.

She couldn't help but be stunned by the view, only marred by the telephone lines crossing just above eye level to a pole across the road. "Great View hunh?" interrupted her examination of the vista and she nodded, "Extremely! You're so lucky to have grown up here, seeing this every day!" She turned and walked to the entrance of the kitchen.

Getting the dog and cat food ready, Rebekkah shrugged. "You sort of become jaded to it when you grow up with it. However, I know now how lucky I was. Having lived in some shitholes with no view at all. I always hated growing up here. I always complained that there was nothing to do, when I was just too lazy, or scared to go out and do all that there is TO do.." She was cut off by a high pitched bark at the front door. Robyn turned to go let the dog in, "Wait!" Rebekkah called out after her, "Not yet! Letting her in now will just make this a pain in the ass!"

"What? Why?"

"She'll sit here, prancing under foot, barking, whining, and generally driving me nuts and slowing me down more. And I'll bet a twenty bucks that Noel is out there with her. So add an equally annoying twenty pound cat, and I'll be tempted to give a swift kick to either."

"Noel? Sounds like a fat cat!"

"Sort of. Heh." She set the dog food down, and then returned to deal with the cat food. "He was a stray we got a long time ago, several years before Phantom. He's been the king of the neighbourhood since, and I'm not embellishing that either. That cat has seen more battles than a Roman Gladiator. I've literally seen him fight up to three other cats at once, a Raccoon, and gave my sister's dog a good thrashing on his first night here. Tore open his ear for not respecting his space. But Phantom thinks he's her mother; similar size, and same colour. He even lets her give him a little facewash every now and then, it's funny and adorable. In the end though, he's build like a tank, like Phantom."

"Jesus, what's up with you and strong animals?"

"Heh, I wish I knew! But Shyla makes up for that. She's the house Princess. Noel takes orders from her, simply by the fact that she's older, I think. She's like fifteen or sixteen or something, tiny, and looks like a miniature Lynx. She weighs like five pounds though, but I doubt you'll see her. She's very flighty."

"Okay, what's up with all the _weird_ animals?" Robyn chuckled softly as she waited to open the door, while Phantom continued to bark and while, and she now could hear the distinct yowl of a hungry cat outside as well.

"Again, I wish I knew" She said as she set down a bowl of the cat food, and nodded to Robyn to open the door.

Taking the five steps to the door from the dining room entrance, she cracked open the door, and a pair of black blurs leaped in, and raced each other for the food, sounding like a pair of elephants running through the house. Giggling, she followed as they started wolfing down their respective chow. Rebekkah came from the kitchen, carrying a third bowl, and took her immediate right, into the back hall ways through another door, and then a left to head down the wooden stairs.

Taking a look into the back hall, Robyn noticed the four other doors along the back wall, and three more on the inside. Two, one small door, little more than a foot wide, immediately on her left, and the next, a bit wider than normal were set into the deep wall that separated the dining room from the hall. The next door on her left appeared tiny, less than a foot wide. One door at the end of the hall was open, and she could see a large dresser, night stand, and the side of a large bed. She assumed it to be the master bedroom. Flanking it on the outer wall was a regular doorway, followed by two more coming towards the stairs. "Your parent's home is huge! Three bedrooms? Jesus christ..."

Rebekkah laughed slightly at that and smirked, "Well, if you want the grand tour of The Hall Chateau, hit the lightswitch on the wall and come on down."

Robyn looked, and swiped her hand upwards, brushing the stubby lever upwards, her finger tips brushing the rough textured wall, causing her to give a curious look; "If you fell, that wall would take off some skin..."

"Yep, gotta love the 50's. Who cared about safety back then?!"

The wall however, carried on with the floorline, leaving exposed wall structure as they decended. The grey painted stairs creaking when certain planks were loaded, adding to the feel of being in a comfortable old home. The stairs were broken by a pair of landings, each taking a ninety degree right angle to continue down. The first landing also sported a plain wood door with a small curtained window to the side yard and the neighbours house. Two sturdy posts supported the back floor of the kitchen which overhung the lower portion of the stairs. The final landing had a wood-panelling wall with two old guitars hung side by side on the left, and tucked into the void the stairs circled, was a large steel filing cabinet, loaded with some unknown household treasures on the top surface. The left wall was punctuated by another door way, while the right wall was entirely concealed by simple cinderblock and plank shelving that was stuffed full with cardboard filing boxes and old childhood toys.

Rebekkah opened the door to left, and stepped in, showing the expansive fourth bedroom, that was long and narrow, with an acreage lot of desk mounted to the inner wall. "This was my room before I moved out. I think my parents are plotting on renting it out again, but...I have no idea if they'll do that again. Anyways, further down the hall on your right, is the doorway to my mom's office, it's alarmed, so...don't open it. My mom does accounting and book keeping, which sort of explains all of the cardboard boxes in the shelving there. Straight ahead down the hall is the furnace, and zig-zaging to the left is the Freezer, and second beer and pop fridge."

Letting Robyn lead past the ancient furnace, to the fridge and freezer, there were several nooks and crannies into which random miscellaneous items were stuffed, as well as a grey door, and an opening into what Robyn assumed was beneath the front stairs. Inside of this area was built in chip-board shelving, loaded with canned glass jars, running from dill pickles, to pears, peaches, cherries, and salmon. Rebekkah leaned forwards and twisted the cold chrome doorknob to open the garage. Inside was a myriad of collected junk, along with a workbench, and tools at the back wall, a pair of weedeaters, a hedge trimmer, chainsaw, a lawn mower, several ladders, even assorted wood sheets and tables. Gardening tools to a crab trap were scattered around the single car garage. Light was by a small, rectangular window recessed into the far, west facing wall, and a single, exposed overhead lightbulb. "My mother has an obsession; she cannot let anything go. She is a packrat of high order, but we have managed to occassionally sell, or get rid of things she never uses. Still...much of her crap winds up here, unused since the 80's, and yet she STILL thinks she might need it some day. Even though I always wanted to use it as a garage, and my dad always wanted to use it as a workshop..it somehow ended up as her storage locker."

"Hmmm, again, I say it. Your house is massive."

"I suppose it is in a way, I mean, it's no mansion, and it is definitely larger than my parents need for themselves. But, I don't see them selling any time soon. My mother would never be able to part with enough of her shit to downsize, and my dad obsesses with the gardens. Problem is, it also drains them of cash, just about as much as my mother's drinking and smoking does. So, what now? Take you home I guess?"

Robyn looked back to Rebekkah and shifted uncomfortably, "Uh, shouldn't we...figure some things out first?"

Rebekkah paused, and shrugged, "Like?"

"Like how we explain to other people how we know each other? I mean, thanks to this bullshit, we're 4 years apart in age. How I can avoid going back to school, you know?"

Rebekkah shook her head, "Sorry, thinking a bit too much in the moment here, wasn't thinking ahead. But now you have me thinking ahead, and I'm pretty sure there's no way to prevent you from going back to school."

"Fuck that, I'll be a drop out before I go back to that shithole and re-hash another two fucking years of torture by stupid ignorant bitches and dumbass cocksuckers."

"Yeaaah, cause your parents are really going to believe that, for no explainable reason at all, that you don't need to finish highschool."

"Look..." Robyn began, then trailed off, "I...I'm sorry about last night. I just...You don't know how I had it in high school. No one liked me; I never really had any friends. I was a total social outcast. And....I thought I was finally done with all of it. I mean; I was going to go out, and start job hunting today, or something."

Anthony leanded against the pale green freezer. "School? Right...it's out for the summer right?" Letting out a sigh of relief as Robyn nodded, Anthony continued, "Look, I know what you went through in High school..."

"Fuck you! Don't even dare start on that talk." She violently spat at him, cutting him off, "You don't know shit about me, or what the fuck I went through! I mean...you're pretty, You have friends, lots." Catching sight of the glowering eyes from Rebekkah, she was reminded, she wasn't talking to 'Rebekkah', but 'Anthony' within.

"Heh, that's what you think? I have...had, like 4 people I considered friends. Period. I was a reject in school. A total slacker. I never did anything. I got out, did some shitty retail jobs, never amounted to anything. Last place I was working was a factory, making stoves and fireplaces. From what you're saying...I think you're just the same. You think that if you wait, something will happen. Something good will come along, change your life for the better. But the problem is...it always was there. You just had to reach out and make the effort to realize it." Cutting off Robyn before she could start by raising his hand, "Opportunity knocks, but he doesn't let himself in Robyn. You have to actively open the door and _leave_ with opportunity. I finally figured this out way too late. Opportunity can't flourish into anything if you try to drag it down with you. It won't pick you up and change you. You have to get off your ass, change yourself, and grab a hold of Opportunity and join it for the ride.

"If I were in your position, I'd use it as an opportunity to go over what I failed at and improve my chances for a better fucking life. You already know what your classes hold for you now. And to fucking hell with the stupid, ignorant twats. I mean fuck; outside of high school, what does their petty bullshit get them? Jack fucking squat."

Sneering, Robyn snapped back at him, "Nice speech Princess, but what's stopping you from doing the same fucking thing? If You failed highschool, just take your damned GED, and go to College and become a mechanic or something. Sure you're a chick now, and that may, or may not work in your favour...and you get cramps, periods, assholes hitting on you, sexist pricks, snotty stuck up bitches and the disgusting lecherous old guys. But none of it stops you from doing something with your life."

"I..." He trailed off and sighed, "because I-"

"You hypocritical little shit! Don't go spouting some happy horseshit about 'opportunity knocking', if you don't follow your own goddamn advice!"

"Fine then, I'll kick you in the ass, and you kick mine! Sound fair?"

It was Robyn's turn to hesitate, but before she could get a word in, he smirked, "Look, I'm pretty sure we're going to be stuck together in some way or another, due to the fact that the only other person we can bitch about this to...is each other. So the way I'm seeing it, is we help each other out as well. And if that means I have to kick your ass to do better in school, and to make you ignore the stupid ignorant twats, then so be it. But it also means I'm going to need your help to motivate me as well. Not to mention helping me...adapt. For as much as I was raised by my sister, there is a shit load I don't know about _being_ female, and a lifetime I don't know about Rebekkah."

It took Robyn a moment before she agreed. "So," She started as she rose from the ground, wiping at the moisture that lined her eyes, "How do we know each other?"

"Ahwhat?" Caught off guard by the random question, Anthony looked at her strangely having forgotten that Robyn had already brought this up just a few minutes ago.

"Well, we can't say we were brought together by an angel fucking shit up, can we? Your...or rather, Rebekkah's friends will wonder why you are suddenly hanging out with some random seventeen year old. Our lifestyles are ridiculously different, so it'd be hard to draw some kind of parallel."

Sighing, Anthony shook his head after a moment. "I've got nothing. But I think we've got a little time before we need an answer...ahhh shit! Autocross is tomorrow!"

"Autocross?"

"Yeah, it's a type of car race that happens out at Western Speedway. Just a race against the clock along a course mapped out by cones. I _was_ doing well with my old car, sucked in my class, but I hadn't built the car for the rules anyways."

"Well, what's the problem then?"

"No helmet, don't have the car prepared, and-"

"Dumbass, you can still buy a helmet today and race tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose I can....if I can figure out Rebekkah's password to her bank account, and if she has any money IN said bank account."

"Hmmm...Good point. Let's go check then?"

"Certainly, after I get dressed. I don't think Rebekkah is the type to be wandering around in her pajamas...or you for that matter. So, I guess I'll take you home while we're out."

"Yeah," Robyn sighed slightly, "I should go home anyways."

Anthony lifted a brow as the tall girl walked past him, but refrained from prying. Something came back to his mind from the night before, her mentioning trying to commit suicide. He started to wonder if perhaps he had overstepped his assumption of her.

The little Suzuki fired up at the twist of the key, and Anthony backed it down the short driveway into the street, and promptly stalled it. Grumbling, he twisted the ignition again, and gave it a bit more gas. They left Sooke in silence, each with plenty to think of rolling in their minds. However, after reaching the four lanes, the thoughts and questions in Anthony's mind forced him to end the silence, "You don't really want to go home do you?"

He was answered by silence for what seemed like a minute before Robyn responded, "No, but I have to."

"Look, you can talk to me ab-"

"No, no I can't" Robyn interjected, her words snipped off, tense.

"Right then, where do you live anyways?"

Sighing heavily, Robyn gave him the directions, and he followed them to a run down single story rancher located in the southern side of Esquimalt. In the front driveway was a battered mid '80s Olds with oxidized dark blue paint mixed in with rust along the rockers and rear fender arches. The lawn was over grown and the gardens weed choked. He grimaced, and feared what the inside of the place looked like. Looking back to Robyn as he slowed down on the side of the road, he offered, "Look, we could go do something, grab some breakfast...or-"

Robyn didn't even look at him, she just simply opened the door and climbed out of the car, slamming the thin door closed. He sighed heavily and leaned on the steering wheel, as he watched Robyn walk up to the front door. _What the hell can I do?_ At the entrance, Robyn stooped to pick up a key from under the entrance mat, when the door was violently opened inwards, Inside stood a rather unpleasant figure of a middle-aged man, with too much girth straining his stained wife-beater and wearing a pair of black boxers. He said something loudly at Robyn, but Anthony couldn't make it out through his closed window. Starting to roll down the window, he paused when the man seemed to see this. He saw the figure move quickly, and watched as the man hurled a half crushed, empty beer can at him, which pinged off his windshield, "Whoe're tha fuck ya are, GET OFF MY PROPER'Y!"

Shuddering at the thought of leaving Robyn with this utter prick, he sighed. There wasn't much of any other option. Hand over hand, he twisted the wheel around and did a quick u-turn. He accelerated up the road, but stopped and pulled over to the side, noticing that the man was no longer in view of his mirrors. He pulled the parking break and shifted the car into neutral. Something was eating at him, he felt like he shouldn't leave her here, right now anyways. "Jessis-christ" he hissed through his teeth as he looked at the cracked and peeling paint yellow paint on the house. His mind raced for ideas, as he rested his forehead on the steering wheel, and letting his now, much longer hair draped forwards and into his view. _This is all just so fucked up, I mean, what the hell am I doing? _He straightened back into the seat, and shifted the car into first, his fingers just sliding onto the brake release, when the slamming of a door interrupted soft throbbing of the engine. He popped the car back into neutral, and turned to see what was going on.

The bastard followed Robyn out the door, and Anthony grimaced, the man was staggering drunk at nine-twenty in the morning. The screaming match filtered through his windows, punctuated by the back handed slap that sent Robyn to the ground.

Teeth clenched, he ripped the door open to the Alto, and stalked down the road, he would think back later how the scene would play out, and just how unintimidating he must have appeared now. Not even twelve hours ago, he could have made people think he was a serial killer with just a glance. Unfortunately, he was now inhabiting the body of his female duplicate, and he knew not how strong she was. But in this moment, it didn't matter in the slightest. "Robyn. Get in the car. Now."

The man staggered slightly and turned to see this new comer to the party. This was different, he'd never really seen anyone with that little bitch..."Jus' who tha fuck are you lil'bitch?"

Robyn looked up at Anthony, and then back to the man, a hand to her reddening cheek, she was terrified of the drunk. No matter how much she hated him, he paralyzed her with fear. "Robyn. Car. _Now!_" The order from Anthony shook her into action and she grabbed her backpack and scrambled up to her feet and quickly walked to the small car.

"Don'chu dare walk away frum me girl, I ain't finish'wit ya! _GIT YOUR ASS BACK HERE-"_

Swallowing words of vile contempt, Anthony turned around himself, walking back to the car when he was stopped short suddenly by a rough hand catching his shoulder and spinning him around violently. Expecting such action, he was ready for it, and used the momentum as he swung his right fist right into the man's cheek. Flailing as he fell, flinging a half empty bottle of whiskey across the road, as he landed on his right knee. Anthony moved quickly before the drunkard could gather his scattered bearings, and ran for the car.

"Fuckin....fuckin' little whore! Get back here right fuckin now! I'm gonna fucking kill you, you cock sucking little bitch!" He slowly picked himself up and stumbled when he tried to give chase. "Run you little shit! I see you again, and I'ma rip your fucking face off bitch!" Anthony was in the car, door slammed closed. His body reacting rather than thinking, the engine revved as he let go of the brake, and dumped the clutch. Four narrow tires dug into the pavement and shoulder, and with a little slip on the loose shoulder, slung the little car up the road, leaving the raging drunk behind. At the intersection with Admirals, he cut someone off, and accelerated north, blasting through the yellow light at the intersection with Craigflower, and slowing to match the pace of traffic across the bridge before turning onto Gorge Rd, and into a parking lot, hiding the car behind some of the thick trees. He shut off the car, and clenched the steering wheel, feeling his heard pounding inside his chest.

Robyn was trembling, he was shaking from sheer adrenaline. He looked at the knuckles of his right hand, where his skin was abraded by the force of the blow and the rough stubble of the man's face. Robyn noticed too and shuddered. "Jesus fucking christ! A....Are you okay?"

Anthony laughed, nervously. "I think? I'll let you know in about 30 seconds when the adrenaline wears off and I can feel my hand again. What about you?"

"I-I'm fine...I think. I'm kind of used to it, now."

Anthony grimaced and ran his left hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "You shouldn't be used to that shit. Who the hell is that shit stain anyways?"

"Gord. My step-dad." She sniffed, fighting back tears, but they came anyways, "My father died when I was six. H-He was coming home from work when a drunk driver T-boned him at that intersection doing 120 during a storm. The driver walked away, my....my dad died instantly."

"Augh, fucking hell." he groaned and dragged Robyn onto a sideways hug.

"M-My mother was devastated. She didn't have a job, a-as she got pregnant with me before she got into college, my father's name was Doran Goshen. They were the successful highschool sweethearts, but and Doran had a good job a-as a welder. So my mom had to get a job, and she got a lucky break at Paul's downtown. That's where she met Gord. He was really nice at first, and my mom got pregnant again. But, they got into an accident one night, and my mom was driving..." She paused to clear her nose before continuing, "The wheel impaled her, killing the fetus and destroying any chance of her to have a child again. I[It hit Gord hardest, as he had always wanted a son. T-that's when the drinking began, when I was 10."

Hugging her tightly, he sighed, "Son of a bitch. I...I really wish I could..."

"Augh, I'm sorry!" Robyn suddenly pushed Anthony away, "I-I shouldn't have told you that! You don't need to know this shit! I'm sorry to bothered-"

Leveling a glare at Robyn he muttered, "Can it." He grabbed her and forcefully pulled her back into the hug, "You're allowed to vent Robyn. For fucks sake, you can't hold everything in. No, I haven't gone through what you have, but I do have 4 years more experience at holding everything in than you do, and I can tell you straight up: It hurts you. It doesn't however, hurt your friends to let them know. Rather it helps your friends to understand you, and be more patient when they know you have some kind of trauma in your past. Don't you dare think I'll reject you or hate you for anything about your past. And I'll always make time to listen when you need to talk, when you need to vent, and when you just need to scream."

Robyn looked up to him, a curious, but also timid look in her eyes, "But you don't even know me, how can you be my friend?"

"Simple: Because Heaven took a gigantic steaming shit on both of our lives. Oh, and I don't know you _yet._ So keep talkin'. Like why your mother doesn't stop the douche, even though I have a feeling I know why already."

Sighing heavily, she awkwardly wrapped an arm around Anthony, "Thanks....I...I've never had anyone go that far to help me, or protect me."

"It's just my view of what friends are for. Anyways...."

"...Yeah, my mother, I love her. I do. But she...she's as terrified, or more of Gord than I am. He's pretty much brainwashed her into thinking that she's useless and couldn't live without him."

"Eugh. Anyways, we need to stop thinking about this for now. Since, well, you are not going back there for a couple days, atleast not until Gord has time to sit and stew, and then calm down from being knocked down."

Letting go of Anthony, Robyn rose with a bit of a smirk, "And by a girl at that."

Rolling his eyes caused Robyn to chuckle as she wiped her eyes. "Fuck, this has been one emotional morning. But we have a problem, when I left, I grabbed my backpack. Which as everything I need, except clothes. And to be honest, You...rather Rebekkah's sweat pants don't fit me, and these shoes are going to blister my feet without socks. Oh....and we haven't eaten yet, and with all that's happened, I'm starving!"

"Well then, we could head to Value Village, or to a Sally Anne or something to get you some clothes....And I think I'll grab something as well, since...wandering around in Rebekkah's Pajamas, just doesn't seem right."

"Or, we could do the logical thing, and I get clothes, then we head back to your place so we can shower?"

"Oh....right. That is a good idea."

"By the way, how's your hand?"

He paused, and looked to the red and slightly bloody knuckles, and shrugged. "I've had worse?" He then noticed something he hadn't paid attention to before. Rebekkah kept her nails fairly short. "Man....I am so glad Rebekkah keeps her nails short! That punch would have hurt a lot more otherwise. Also..." He trailer off as he drew his hand closer to his eyes, examining some dirt clinging to the side skin of the knuckles, "I believe she works hard. Which is how I was able to drop Gord like a sack of bricks. With a small miracle, she might have a job I can pull off."

Robyn looked at him weirdly, while wiping the wetness away from beneath her eyes, "How can you guess that?"

Offering his hand, he pointed to the dirt. "See the roughness of the skin, you get that when you work hard in rough environments. It's kind of a callous because the skin has thickened, and hardened there, creating deeper grooves which trap dirt and general shit. Also, her hands aren't smooth and manicured, her nails are kept short, she has a worker's build too, now that I'm paying attention to it, she has strength. In all seriousness, she's about as strong as I was. I think. Somewhere around there. Anyways, it'll be fine."

On their way back to Colwood, they stopped at a small Salvation Army store and Robyn picked up two pairs of black jeans, and a couple shirts. In the house, Anthony let Robyn shower first, while he sat down before his computer and started rummaging through email to start getting an idea of who Rebekkah was. He also recalled the odd sticker he found on the back of the car, Garage Ucchide. That got him a website entirely in Japanese. However, with great skill (random clicking), he came to realize that they were a company that seemed to specialize in Kei cars, apparently doing anything from basic maintenance and rebuilds, to engine swaps and suspension work.

His eyes lit up with excitement, and he bolted downstairs, throwing a pair of shoes on untied, he stepped into the garage and opened the large door, allowing the sunlight to fill the space as it was simply brighter than the meager pair of bulbs. He quickly popped the hood, but sighed when he realized it was still the F5A engine. Yet while he was there, he took a look around, and found out his suspicion was correct, the car was equipped with an aftermarket exhaust, which explained the rather rumbly exhaust note when he had expected it to be quieter. Turning to reach for the floor jack he kept under the bench, he grabbed air, and sighed. He'd forgotten that he was Rebekkah for a moment again, and realized that she didn't have a proper jack, let alone jack stands.

Resorting to the usual method, he got down on his hands and knees, and looked around the wheels and tires. He blinked and looked again. He couldn't believe it, Rebekkah, in all of her weird desire for a cute little car, got a fucking gem! The previous owner in Japan had already installed a set of coil-over shocks on the car. While he had thought that the ride was a bit harsh, he had put it down to the size and weight of the car combined with worse roads than it was designed for. He was grinning like an idiot while leaning against the work bench with the coil over adjuster wrench in hand when Robyn came downstairs, her short hair still wet, and hanging around her face, but now properly clothed, she looked a bit more comfortable.

"So...what's with the crazy grin?"

"Well," Anthony started, "Rebekkah saved me a bunch of hassle, time, and money with this little car. You noticed how the ride was rather rough?"

She nodded, "I thought it was rather brutal really..."

"Heh, that's cause your used to a mid-80's whale that wallows more than the Titanic. Anyways, the previous owner in Japan had modified this car before selling it. They did the exhaust, and got some coil-overs on it."

"Coil overs?"

"Oh, sorry, car term. A coil over is a Coil Spring, over the shock body. These cars, when manufacturered, used a MacPherson Strut system. Technically, the Coil-over is a modified strut, that allows changing of the ride height by raising, or lowering the spring perch on the shock body. Higher gives more wheel travel, but a higher center of gravity, lower means less travel, but a lower center of gravity....And that's all completely over your head, isn't it?"

Nodding Robyn smirked and laughed, "Yeah, slightly."

"Well then, come here and learn young protégé!" Anthony moved to the front of the car and knelt next to the front wheel, which was cocked to the left, making it easier to see the suspension already. When Robyn knelt beside him, he pointed out the coil-over itself. "See how the body of the coil over is threaded? The spring perch is just a big nut that can be turned up and down those. The Higher the perch is, the more travel the shock has, thus giving more wheel travel. Wheel travel is good for rough roads, it prevents the shock from bottoming out, which is when the shock is compressed fully, and violently. Bottoming out can damage the shock quite severely. But the extra height, means the center of gravity is higher. The higher your center of gravity, the more weight shifts when you change direction, brake, or accelerate. And with cars this small and narrow, can lead to a roll-over situation in extreme circumstances.

"The lower you have the car, the less weight transfers, thus keeping the car more stable. But it also limits the amount of suspension movement. Less movement, means the suspension has to be firmer to cope with the same bumps and jolts, but over a shorter distance."

"So why is the center of gravity such a big deal?"

"Well, when you go through a corner, and you feel the car roll to the outside? That's the problem. The weight of the car is being transferred to the outside tires."

"I think you're going to have to break this down into child terms...I do well in art, not physics."

"Hmmm, okay; A tire has a limited amount of traction against the pavement at all times. This traction is used by three forces: Acceleration, Deceleration, which occupy the forwards and rearward motions." He took a small step back and used the tire as a visual aid. "And Centripetal, your lateral or sideways motion. If this tire has 1 unit of grip on the pavement under normal circumstances, I can only use a combination of any axis of movement up to that 1 unit, before the tire looses traction, and skids.

"When the car leans, it moved weight off the inside tires, and adds weight to the outside tires. The inside tires loose traction, while the outside tires gain traction, but not by the same amount. Say the inside tires lose half their grip, but the outside tires only gain a quarter. Instead of having 4 units of traction-"

"-You have 3.5 units, and you skid?"

"Exactly. Then there's the psychological aspect; A car leaning over, like say the Old's driven through a corner too fast, would feel unsafe, and less in control, than a car that is flat on the road still."

"That makes sense I suppose."

"Anyways, it means I get to save a chunk of money since I don't have to hunt for coilover's to fit this thing. I think though, that I am going to contact the company who did the work, and ask them if they remember this car, and why it was sold....that is of course, if they know english."

"Heh, the curse of the foreign car?"

"Looks like." He sighed and stood up, stretching slightly as he did so. "Anyways, my turn to shower. Feel free to check your email on my comp."

Stepping into the washroom, he paused, looking at the reflection in the mirror for the first time. The first thought to cross his mind, oddly enough was, _Damn, everyone was right; I do look better as a chick!_ Clear skin, well structured facial features, slightly thick brows. Everything felt alien except for her eyes. That same dark blue iris stared back at him, Sighing, he watched Rebekkah in the mirror copy him. Which prompted a round of making faces at the mirror just to see what Rebekkah looked like.

Soon he got around to that which needed to be done, and started the water running, Taking a step back he paused, time for the most awkward situation he had ever been in...and likely ever would be in. He started to undress and tried to ignore that which was now attached to his rib cage, though it was futile. Prodding his right breast, he began analyzing the feeling and sensation, mixed with the emotion that he tried to detach himself from. He stepped back to the mirror to see what Rebekkah looked like, and couldn't help but blush. The sudden realization that he was rather attracted to his female form caused his brain to lurch into a state of panic, revulsion, curiosity, and several other emotions that he couldn't even begin to classify. Instead, he jumped into the shower, and focused solely on washing his hair.

Getting dressed was relatively simple, even the bra was no match for his logic, once he detached himself from the situation to view it objectively. Rather than fight blindly with the clasp, he threw the garment on backwards then spun it around. Dressed in jeans and an old black t-shirt, he joined Robyn downstairs. "Well, I didn't hear any screaming, so you made out alright?"

"Took a few moments to get used to how Rebekkah looks, but yes, my mind isn't totally shattered."

Robyn smirked slyly, "You took a while there..."

Rolling his eyes, Anthony shook his head, "Yeah, I poked a breast, analyzed how I responded to it, and after realizing that I was starting to get aroused, I jumped in the shower and washed my hair. Oh, and I made faces at myself in the mirror."

"What, didn't go for the vag?"

He stared at her with a look of utter disbelief, "Look do you think this is easy having to be a guy in a chicks body, and not by choice? I never thought of myself as one who even remotely should have been born female. I was comfortable being male. I will admit that I had a long-standing curiosity of the differences made in sensations, but jesus christ, I am not about to go masturbating in the first twelve hours, that's a little past the point of awkwardness!"

Raising her hands in an effort to show her submission, "Okay, okay! I'm sorry, but I can't help but find it a little bit funny from my perspective!"

Shaking his head, he turned and walked into the garage, "Let's just go get some food. I'm hungry, and I need to take my mind off everything."

They left the house and headed first towards the bank, where they both got out and entered the building, Instead of walking to a teller, and the possible problems related to such, Anthony headed to the ATM, and plugged the card into the machine. He rapidly punched in his password, and waited. He sighed with relief when it worked and he looked to Robyn and muttered, "Atleast some things about me, stayed the same."

He went through the menus, checking his Visa account which was empty, the line of balance he had taken out, was not present, and Rebekkah's saving's account was a another welcome surprise. He had a balance of just over sixty-six hundred saved. Three months pay approximately with his old job, he mused and reminded himself to thank Rebekkah should they ever meet.

Leaving the bank with an extra hundred in cash tucked into Rebekkah's purse, they climbed into the Suzuki and fired it up, "So, what sounds good for breakfast?"

Robyn shrugged but rummaged into her backpack and pulled out a CD case, "My turn for music though!"

"No problem, and I think I have an idea on food."

Robyn grinned as she pulled out a blackish-gray disk, with "The Gathering" left in the reflective metallic surface of the disc, before removing the Sugar Ray disc and sliding it in. The album started with a throbbing guitar riff before breaking into a slow, pulsing rhythm. Eventually a beautiful woman's voice began singing, "It has always been in the back of my mind..."

Anthony looked over to Robyn quizzically, "Who is this?"

"The Gathering, this song is called 'Strange Machines', I thought it suited the car perfectly." She grinned.

Anthony nodded, and turned up the stereo, as he pointed the car east on the highway. Taking them down the Colwood strip before he pulled the little car into the center lane, waiting to turn left. Robyn looked at the blue roofed building, "Jasmine's?"

"Yep, but it looks like it is utterly packed."

Robyn blinked, she hadn't noticed it just a second ago, but the parking lot was filled with cars, with a line of vehicles crawling through the lot looking for somewhere to park. "I think we need to take a raincheck today?"

"Yeah, I think so too. Just going to pull a u-turn and try somewhere else." An idea clicked on in his mind as he spotted a gap in the traffic and gunned the little engine, using the cars minuscule turning radius to complete the U-turn in the two lanes he had available. Accelerating back up the hill, they passed his bank and then turned left, much to Robyn's dismay. "Dairy Queen? Seriously?"

"Pfff! Have some faith kid!" Instead of turning right into DQ's back parking lot, he took a right again into a quiet little lot framed by trees, with a small blue building set in the back, away from the road. "Rosies is better known for their dinner, but even so, it's an under appreciated restaurant."

"No doubt, I've never heard of the place!"

Once inside and seated, they found themselves in a window booth, away from the six other patrons. Robyn broke the quiet first, "So what else is on the cards today?"

"Well," Anthony started, "After this, we're going to head over to Lordco so I can grab a helmet, and some oil for the car. After that, Canadian Tire so I car start re-building my tool collection. Ugh, I don't even want to think about that right now though. I mean, the most expensive part of working on cars, is the tool cost! Asside from generic wrenches, ratches and sockets, which can be costly in their own right, it's the one use tools that they gouge you on. Course...I was dealing with an old, rare, and unique engine before, so maybe, if I'm lucky, Suzuki tools are cheaper."

"And then we work on your car?"

"We? Didn't think you'd be interested?" Anthony gave the italian a quizzical look.

"Well, I-Ugh, forget it. Forget I asked." She sighed and started retreating but Anthony reacted.

"Hey, if you want to help, then I want you to. And you don't have to explain why to me, unless you want to. Just remember though, if you want to talk about it, then I will listen, gladly."

Slowly a shy smile appeared on Robyn's face. "I-It was my dad. My real dad. He has this old Toyota truck, from the seventies or something. He loved that old thing, said his father gave it to him for his graduation present. Even though we lived in a trailer at the time, he worked on it in the gravel. Nothing major, just changing oil, and other fluids. Washed it every weekend in the summer. He got me helping him when I was six or something. He'd call me different names all the time, like grease mouse, dirty rascal..." She sighed at the memory and continued, "I sort of get the feeling that he sort of wished that I was his son, but he loved me all the same and included me in boy-things like that. My mother sometimes objected, saying that he'd turn me into a tom-boy, or that she was losing her daughter; but never put up too much of a fight. I know since she'd watch us from the front window every time with a smile on her face." She broke off as the food arrived, thanking the waitress who seemed about seventeen herself. Summer job obviously.

"Your dad sounds like he was a great guy, wish I could have met him."

"He was, and yeah, from what I know of you so far, I think you and him would have gotten along well. Anyways...yeah, back then, we were happy. Dad didn't make much, and my mom didn't work, but we were happy." She sighed and poked her waffle with a fork. "Then that drunken fucker killed him, and destroyed the truck. Mom had to get a job and since she married my dad right out of highschool, she wasn't qualified for anything other than being a waitress at Denny's. She met Gord there and...well, you know how that went."

Pausing to swallow a mouthful of pancakes, he looked at her and pointed his fork to her to signify his words were poignant. "Cram it. No more depressing thoughts, or I'll stab your eye with this fork." ...or to add weight to his threat. "We're going to change the oil in the Alto, you're gonna get greasy, you're going to have fun, and your dad is going to smile at you for finally remembering to have fun doing things you did together again. Oh, and after all that, you're going to help me figure out what Rebekkah's been up to for the past couple months, who she is, who she knows, and just what exactly it is, that she does for a living....cause getting a call from work on Monday to find out where she works, and when, just ain't gonna go over well."

Robyn chuckled and nodded, "Okay, okay, I don't want any of this fork-in-my-eye business."

"By the way," quickly interjecting, Anthony began asking something that he'd been thinking about for a bit, "You want to crash at my parent's for a week?"

Stunned at the rather random question, the young girl stammered, "i-I...I don't know...?"

"Well, it gets you away from Gord for a week." He let the significance of that one sink in for a second before adding, "I mean, after being knocked down by a girl, protecting you, he's probably going to be ape shit for the next few days possibly. As well, Phantom doesn't really do well on her own, so having someone at the house will make her feel a lot better. That dog is my dad's baby, and whenever he's away for extended periods of time, she goes into like, withdrawl. She gets sick, and scares really easily. It's apparently worse when no one else is around, and I'll have to go to work during the week."

"I don...no. Yes, I think I can. B-but I'll need to go home and get some things. And let my mom know at least."

"Excellent. Because there is a third reason; you need to teach me all that I need to know about being female, in a week."

Staring at him for a second, he burst out laughing, "Yeah, that ain't happening! Oh! And it gives us a reason to know each other, the truth!"

"Uhhh, how does the truth fit in there? Angels are considered homeless-crazy-street-person ranting..."

"No no no, you're driving through Esquimalt, saw Gord slapping me, and in turn, punched his bitch-ass to the ground. We just omit the previous, what? Nine hours from the story."

Rolling it over in his mind, he agreed, it made decent sense. "Sounds good. Especially the part about me laying the smack down on drunk candy-asses!"

Breakfast consumed, the pair dashed off in the kei car again, this time blasting the short distance into Langford along Goldstream Rd, before turning left onto Jacklin. LordCo was a fairly large white building with an expansive glass front, and large blue block letters clinging to the facade of the store. Located at the Jacklin and Station ave. intersection, it was somewhat central, and in line with the Station Ave. "car line" which involved glass companies, an engine builder, powder coaters, two salvage yards, and the ICBC (Insurance Corporation) impound.

The parking lot was fairly full already, being a Saturday, many people were running to the part stores to start their weekend projects. Amidst the collection was a Datsun 510 with the hood removed showing the small block Chevy proudly, near it was a primer gray, lowered Chevy S-10 pickup. Parked beside the S-10 was a rusty blue '80s Corolla coupe. There was even a restored Ford Model T pickup parked right in front of the doors. Every weekend in the summer usually saw the parking lot of a LordCo turn into an impromptu, and rapidly evolving car show.

As they walked to the front doors, a man in a stained white shirt and jeans walked out, looked them, then the Alto, and looked confused, "Suzuki Alto Works, imported from Japan." Rebekkah offered, and the man shook his head with a smirk.

Inside the store, Robyn followed the brunette through the aisles to the counter, her eyes scanning the shelves of various spray lubricants, oils, and other fluids. At the counter, there were three men behind the counter, to the left, was a young man, in his twenties, short black hair, clean shaven. He was helping a teen who seemed to be about her own age, with short spiked golden hair. The teen was apparently choosing an oil filter.

In the middle, was an older man, with a peppered beard and silver encroaching on his black hair. He smiled at the two as they walked towards him, giving them a welcoming and friendly, "Hello!"

To the right was another man in his mid twenties with dark brown hair, kept in a slightly shaggy length. He seemed to be a bit busy discussing something about camshafts with another customer.

"Hello, how's it going today?" When Rebekkah responded to the older man, she noticed that the teen and the other man behind the counter on the left looked over rather rapidly. Robyn smirked. Rebekkah was rather noticeable in this sort of place.

The man smiled, "Pretty good today, and you?"

"Alright, though I am looking for a helmet."

The man's face brightened noticeably, "Ahhh, headed to the autocross tomorrow I presume?"

"Yeah, my dad suggested I try it out, get a little more used to my car's limits."

Robyn watched the exchange with interest, but also keeping an eye on the two at the counter, who were watching them in turn.

"Ahh, wise man your father is." As he lead them over to the wall with the racing equipment, he asked, "So, what are you going to be racing tomorrow" He then kneeled to the shelving, his knees popping in protest as he looked through the helmets, using his experience to size up at potential helmet for the girl.

"Suzuki Alto Works RS/R. The tiny hatchback parked outside." Rebekkah pointed outside to the small white car.

"Suzuki Alto? Never heard of th-" The old man was cut off suddenly by the young client at the counter, "An Alto?! Holy shit! When did you get it?"

Caught off guard, Rebekkah stammered slightly, "U..Uh about a month ago...why?"

The guy laughed, "Oh, just curious I guess. Though I don't really know why you'd get an Alto when you could have gotten something better for the same price probably." The teen was about 5'10" tall, decently built. His hair was a yellowish blonde, cut short and spiked, while his eyes seemed to be a flat shade of green. He was wearing a stained navy blue t-shirt and ripped, worn, and generally mutilated blue jeans.

The older man stood up finally, and looked over, "Kevin, settle down. You'll scare'm before you even get to know them." He then looked back to Rebekkah, "It's a small, I think it should fit." As he opened the box, and offered the white, open faced helmet to her, "But best try it on first. Now, these are beginner helmets. Won't be the most comfortable thing, but it'll protect your noggin' if the worst comes."

Rebekkah chuckled slightly, "Thanks, but I don't mind." Pulling the helmet on, she looked to the guy at the counter who had started making his way over, "Got it because, well, I wanted something sporty and that looked cute." _I cannot believe I just said that. My god, if he starts hitting on me, what the hell am I going to do? _But what else was there to say? If it had been Anthony's choice, he'd have gotten something different as well.

"How's it fit?" Looking up at the man, Rebekkah smiled, he had been right, the helmet wasn't the most comfortable, but it wasn't crushing her head, nor was it about to fall off. "It should work."

"Well then, anything else?" The bearded man asked.

Kevin offered his right hand, "Heh, I guess that makes sense. I'm Kevin by the way. I drive the SR5 Corolla out there. Kind of a rust bucket, but I'm going to be swapping a 4AGZE into it soon."

Shaking his hand as they walked to the counter, "Why not a 20 valve?"

As Kevin, and the bearded man's expressions seemed to drift into shock and curiosity, he instantly realized what was wrong, but suddenly Robyn jumped in, saving his hide, "Her ex had one."

The men's faces showed their understanding, then Rebekkah looked to the bearded man, "I was thinking of changing the oil. I mean, I've put a lot of miles on since I got it, and I read somewhere that it is good to change your oil frequently." _Need to thank Robyn for pulling my ass out of that fire..._

Kevin threw in an idea, "Does it have a limited slip?"

Rebekkah blinked, shook her head. "Didn't say anything about that in the manual." She trailed off, wondering that herself now.

The older man nodded, "Kev'ere has a good idea. Check all the fluids now while you're thinking about it, could prevent a problem tomorrow. What sort of trans has it got in it?"

"5 speed manual, with all wheel drive."

Kevin blinked in surprise, and the older man looked shocked, looking out the window to the car, "All wheel drive, in that small thing?!"

Rebekkah nodded, while Kevin suddenly interjected, "Yeah, they're this class of car back in Japan, the Kei-jidosha or something. Small sizes, usually running 3 cylinder turbo engines. Max capacity is like 660cc. Horsepower limit is 64 though. Most don't make that much power though, except hers, and a few other performance models. A lot of the small hatchbacks and wagons offer all wheel drive. Kind of surprised you didn't get a Cappuccino though."

Quickly recalling something from when he actually had a thought to get a Cappuccino, Rebekkah shook her head, "Couldn't. 15 year rule, Cappuccinos are eligible next year. Just the same, my Alto is the 550cc, they changed a lot in one year unfortunately."

Kevin nodded while the bearded man took the helmet and placed it next to a till, and quickly went around the store, picking up a jug of oil, a jug of transmission fluid, and some coolant. Unloading at the counter, he stuck out his right hand, which Rebekkah shook, "Right, my name is John by the way. The oil I'm going to recommend for you is Mobil 1. It's a high quality synthetic, which should work very well, in that little engine, and especially for the turbo. Traditional oils can burn or, 'coke' if you shut it down after driving hard. This, won't. But it also might free up a few ponies for you." He then pointed to the trans fluid, "Amsoil. High quality stuff. You might notice improved shifting. But it should save some wear on the old gears." He then pointed to the coolant; "This is the stuff I sell to just about anyone with a Japanese import, including Kevin's. Now, I don't have any specifications of your car, can't even pull them up if I wanted to. You wouldn't happen to know what the engine is made out of, would you?"

"I'm pretty sure it's all alloy?"

Nodding, John continued, "Then this should be perfect. Now, to set up your account, I just need your Name, Address and Phone number miss."

Kevin looked at him, and smirked, "I was just about to ask the same damn thing..."

Letting out a slightly nervous laugh, Rebekkah gave her info to the man, who then plugged it into the computer. When the man asked, she offered her debit card. The sale went through, the man wished them a good day getting the Alto ready for tomorrow.

Kevin walked with them to the door, and waved back to the other guy at the counter, "Later bro, too bad you're stuck behind the desk today!" As they exited, he said, "Hey, see ya at the track tomorrow."

"Right...See you then." Rebekkah was nervous, and slightly disturbed.

Robyn wasn't much fazed by it all obviously, "I'll take some pics for you too!"

"Awesome!" Was the reply as he got into his rusty blue Corolla.

As the girls climbed into the Alto, Anthony closed his eyes and pushed the back of his head into the headrest. "Oh god...He was hitting on me, wasn't he?"

Robyn laughed, evilly. "Yes, yes he was."

Glaring at her, he spat, "Fuck off. Seriously, this isn't exactly the best time to be cracking jokes here. It's not as if I am suddenly attracted to guys here, and I seriously do not need this sort of attention right now. Augh, what if Rebekkah already has some guy? Jesus christ! What the hell?! Next time I see that Angel bitch, I'm beating the shit out of her until she gives me an instruction manual!"

Robyn burst out laughing, "Okay, now who's cracking the jokes?!"

"Yeah yeah, anyways, now to get some tools."

Canadian Tire wasn't far from LordCo, just down Jacklin at the mall. It was one of the "everything you can need, under one roof" kind of stores, with most things being of mediocre to alright quality. However, for tools they kept their standards reasonably high. The Mastercraft Maximum line often being chosen for it's quality for the dollar, and for the lifetime warranty. It'd been known for people to bring in a twenty year old wrench that snapped in half, and get a new one off the shelf if they had it in stock.

Of course, this is exactly what Rebekkah and Robyn went for, picking up a set of regular and short wrenches, and a "mechanics ratchet set" which happened to be on sale for a fairly ridiculous price, which was always a perk of Canadian Tire, they always had some form of good tools on sale. Having to hope that the oil filter for a 3 cylinder Suzuki Sprint would work. They were headed for the till when Rebekkah stopped suddenly, "Shit, forgot the jack and stands."

"The jack?"

"Yeah, I forgot I don't....err, we need one. And jack stands."

Shrugging, Robyn followed the brunette back to the automotive section and to the aisle with the heavier items. Amidst car ramps, ramps to get things into truck beds, and other items, were exactly what Rebekkah was looking for. A quick lift jack, and some 5 ton jackstands. Overkill for the car really, but overkill on safety was never really overkill, just redundancy.

Robyn paused, "Uh, I'll get someone to help us. That box says it's like, seventy-five pounds."

"Bah!" Rebekkah stretched her arms before her, and arched her back, "Yea of little faith!" Crouching down, she gripped the box like a vise between the heels of her hands and her forearms, tilting the box to the left to wriggle her right hand's fingers under the back corner of the box, before tilting it to the right to get her left fingers under the front corner. Giving a soft grunt as she heaved it off the shelf, she straightened her knees, and turned around, resting the box across the top of the shopping cart. "See? No problem!"

Robyn blinked, "Jesus christ! There's no way in hell I could have lifted that damned thing!"

With a quirked brow, Rebekkah had to ask, "Seriously?"

"I am only a hundred and twelve pounds here."

"Hmmm, well, we'll have to work on that. I used to struggle with fifty. Having strength opens doors you never thought about. Trust me on that one. Anyways, you get the jackstands then!"

Rolling her eyes as she bent over, she was stopped by Rebekkah's muttering, "What?"

"Don't lift with your back. I know its easier, or takes less thought, but it is an easy way to damage your spine, or the muscles in your back. You need to lift like I did, crouch down, and lift with your legs. Your legs are some of the stronger muscles in your body, so put them to use. When you are stronger, then it's okay to casually grab things without thinking about it. But right now, you're about to lift something out of your routine, and out of your comfort zone. So be safe about it."

"Ugh, whatever," She sighed and crouched down like Rebekkah had done.

"No, I mean it seriously. Last month, a co-worker of mine lifted a sheet of steel and slipped a disk. It put him off work for over a month. It was about a sixty pound sheet, about our average."

Cringing, she thought a little more about the advice. "Sorry, just...never thought about it before."

"Heh, neither did I, and I'd even thrown a muscle in my back out once or twice. Now I think about it every damned time!"

Chuckling Robyn sighed and hoisted the jackstand and grumbled something about its weight as she lifted it into the shopping cart. Crouching down again, she grabbed the second, and hefted its bulk into the cart as well.

"See, my goal, is to get you doing lifting those suckers single handedly."

"What?!"

Leaning in, Rebekkah grabbed on by the release handle and picked it up, the weight torquing her body slightly, still not fully used to the differences. "Like this, it won't take long..."

"You're crazy." Robyn shook her head, and headed for the front counter.

Back at the house on the hill, they pulled into the Garage and loaded the simple built-in bench with th purchases. While Anthony ripped open the box for the jack, Robyn used a pair of scissors to cut the tools free of their packaging. Something was on her mind, forcing Anthony to ask, "Alright...what is it? You've had this weird look on your face since we left Canadian Tire."

"Ugh, no, it's nothing." She shook her head dismissively, as she laid out the tools on the white painted chip-board surface of the bench.

"Oh jesus christ! I may be oblivious to some things, but somethings rolling around in your skull. Obviously something to do with either me or this situation, and you're embarrassed to say it or ask it, or something. Either way, we don't work until you say it!"

Robyn blinked and looked at him, and smirked, "You're not going to like it..."

"I don't like not knowing worse."

Rolling her eyes, Robyn turned and slumped against the bench, fiddling with a chrome ratchet in her hands, "I...I don't get you. At one point, you seem so...male, it's ridiculous, like right now: Playing with cars, being obstinate, acting, sounding like a guy. But....in town, in public, I swear I couldn't tell, except for the couple slips. It's like...I dunno....it's weird is what it is!" Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I mean seriously, how are you taking this so damn easily? If it were me, I'd be freaking out, having a panic attack or something!"

Shrugging his now narrow shoulders, "Drama nine?"

"What?"

"Heh," He smirked at the joke in his head, "I took Drama in grade nine. One year only, and people were surprised by how well I acted. And that's what this is. Acting. Besides, what else can I do? Have a panic attack every time someone stares at me? And besides, I was practically raised by my sister. I just keep analyzing the situation and try to think about what she'd do in such positions.

"Anyways, you said something earlier about taking pictures? Of that...Kevin dude?"

Blinking, Robyn nodded, "Yeah. I mean...I was thinking that since well, you'll be driving, I might as well bring my camera and take some pictures."

"Hmm, sounds good. What sort of camera do you have?"

Robyn's eyes lit up, she swiftly walked to the passenger side of the car, and leaned in through the open window. She came back out with her backpack, and in a swift motion, had the black canvas bag opened and hauled out a large black leather camera case. Popping it open to reveal her small pride in her world of loathing. "It's a Nikon FM2N SLR. I only have like, three lenses for it, but they work beautifully."

"SLR?"

"Single Lens Reflex. It's a professional quality, fully manual camera from a couple years ago. My mother got it for me two years ago, it's used, but it works well." Pausing, she dug around in the backpack a bit with curious intent, pulling out several film canisters, grinning she held one up proudly, "Excellent! I know exactly how this little beauty is going to be used!"

Giving the tall Italian a curious glance, he asked with a single syllable, "What?"

"It's a roll of Ilsworth ISO 6400 film, black and white." She paused, reading the clueless expression on Rebekkah's face, "It's a roll of film that has a very high sensitivity to light. It produces very textured, or grainy pictures. Used normally, it lets you get acceptable shots in low-light levels, where you'd otherwise have to use too slow of a shutter speed, and end up with a blurry mess. Used artistically, the texture of the grain can add to the punch of the photograph."

"Okay...."

"Heh, sorry. If cars are your thing, photography is mine I guess. Got into it after a my mom took got some pictures developed and she complained that they didn't turn out. The guy at the developing center said it was because the film was expired. I looked at them and loved them, and pointed out to my mother how beautiful the muted colours worked, just not in the normal sense. The guy at the counter asked if I was into photography...er, anyways...I'm going to be taking some shot of the Alto tonight at some point, and you're going to be involved."

"Okay, sounds interesting anyways."

"Well, that's us in a nut shell, interesting." Robyn snickered as Anthony positioned the jack under the car. In a few quick strokes of the jack's lever, the front of the car was off the ground. The shorter of the two quickly dropped to his knees and looked under the car from the passenger side, prompting Robyn to ask, "What are you looking for?"

"Stand or Jack points. Reinforced sections of the car's chassis designed to take the weight of the vehicle without harming anything. Some cars have them, others don't, so you use suspension mounting points to locate the jack stands under. Otherwise, you can damage the frame or punch through a floor board."

"Well, that would suck..."

"Yeah, it would, ready to rock?"

"Speaking of, no. Is there a CD player down here?"

"I don't know...if you don't see one, then probably not.. I don't remember my roomates being car guys exactly, but I don't even know if I have the same roommates now."

"Oh, right," Pausing, Robyn looked around. "Sorry, I keep forgetting that a lot has changed for you. Pretty much everything is different. Name, car, people you know. I'd be terrified I think..."

"Heh, I should be, but I'm also looking at this in sort of an academic point of view...just how differently the exact same person is raised. I mean, some people theorized that nothing really changes, you are who you are. But that's the problem; you are how you are raised to be. When I was twelve, I had appendicitis. I was laid up in the hospital for a while and I was bored out of my mind. So my dad grabbed some magazines for me. He grabbed Popular Mechanics, and some mini-truck magazine. That mini-truck magazine started my passion for cars, anyways, pass the oil catch-can, I think a twelve or thirteen mil socket, and the ratchet please."

"Okay." Robyn grinned and stood up, kicking the plastic oil catcher, sending it skittering slowly under the car. She reached the bench and started looking at the numbers of the sockets, before finding the right pair, and grabbing the ratchet, "So, what happened between when you were twelve and now? Or..well, yesterday?"

"Ugh, well...I think I started day dreaming a bit, but after a while, I started buying four-by-four and off road mags. It was the tech and how-to sections that I loved, and the off road mags, were at least, the most in depth on their tech articles. Most other magazines, like Hot Rod, basically show you the part, and then cut to the shots of it on the car or engine. Half way assuming that you either knew how to do it in the first place, or hire some shop to do it for you. Thanks," Pausing to check the fitment of the sockets on the drain plug, the 14mm fit after wedging it on around some of the grime that had collected.

"The off road mags, always seemed to-" Grunting while cracking the bolt loose, she continued, "-assume that you wanted to know how to do it too, so they would take their rig to a shop, and then take a bunch of pics while installing, and tell you what they were doing, or actually do their work in their own driveways. It was crazy informative, especially the suspension...AGH!" yanking his hand back, Anthony shaking it violently, airing it out, and cooling the brown oil that clung o his skin. "Slightly warmer than I had anticipated!" He motioned move over so he could get at the transmission's drain plug.

"So you learned everything from off road magazines? Why didn't you have a truck then?"

"Well, that's an easy question: Off roading is expensive. You are going to break something sooner or later. Drive shaft, u-joints, steering knuckles, tie rods, axle, differential, whatever you can destroy, you probably will. That, and the jackass who had the truck I wanted rusting away as a wood shed, wouldn't sell it. Period. Ugh, that bastard still makes me bitter!

"Anyways, cars are cheaper to run, and for autocross, you don't need anything to start. Just a regular beater. Which is how I started, I got my Chevette from my dad. It'd been his commuter, but he decided to get something slightly more classy since he works at Dockyard, where everyone else drives BMWs and shit." With the fluids draining, they climbed out from under the car.

Robyn looked to the tools expectantly, "So, what's next?"

"Oh, we wait. Let the oil drain for about an hour, then come back, fight to hell with the oil filter, and then refill it."

Sighing slightly, and shot down, Robyn muttered, "Damn...I thought there was more to it."

Laughing, Anthony smirked at her and shook his head, "Nah, it's just an oil change. But don't worry...cause sometime down the line, I have plans, ridiculous plans for that little car." He wiped his hands on a rag he found, that Rebekkah must have grabbed from their parent's.

Robyn shot Anthony a quizzical look, intrigued, "Plans?"

"Yep! You remember how that guy at LordCo-"

"Kevin?"

"Yeah, him, he was saying how they had 660cc engines later?"

"Sorta?" She took the rag to wipe off her hands as Anthony offered it.

"Heh, anyways, I'm thinking about possibly trying to get one of the later engines, possibly something current to swap into the car."

"Didn't he say they had the same power though?"

"Yeah, but they have a bit more torque from the extra displacement. But what I really want it for, is the aftermarket. It's strange, about a month ago, I was came across these Kei cars myself and thought that one would be a fun commuter or something. But I never acted on that impulse. Anyways, there's this other car that Suzuki Made, called the Cappuccino. It's a rear-drive, two seat sports car. Like a Miata, but smaller still."

"Ohhhh, okay, that's kind of weird that you thought about it when Rebekkah bought one...kinda creepy actually."

Shrugging, he opened the door to the entrance of the house and started climbing the stairs, as Robyn followed, he continued, "Anyways, I came across this company that had one of the Cappuccinos as a race car. Totally stripped out interior, carbon panels, and they had seriously modified the engine. It was putting out something like two hundred and fifty horse power. Stupidly ridiculous power for the car. In the specs, they listed the engine as a 720cc engine. So, somewhere, someone has made oversized pistons, or a stroked crankshaft kit for the engine, and if I'm lucky, and I mean bloody lucky, I might be able to build the same sort of engine."

"Wait....How much power?!"

"Over two hundred anyways. My aim is a bit lower....maybe. We'll see after tomorrow. But either way, I'm hoping to get it done before the new year, and Western's expansion."

"Western's expansion? Oh! You mean the new track they're building?"

"Exactly!" Grinning like an idiot, he paused, his grin faltered, "Uhh, by the way...When were we going to risk getting your shit?"

This time, the italian grinned diabolically, "Tonight...or this morning. Sometime around then anyways. Sneak in through my bedroom window, raid and pillage, oh...and leave a note for my mom. She at least deserves to know that I'm okay."

"Sounds like a plan. Anyways, time to research!"

They closed the door to the bedroom, and the reading began. Robyn took the computer, rummaging through the browser's history, files, documents, folders, everything possible. Anthony meanwhile took the diary. Starting on page one, he read the date, blinked, and then continued,

_06/24/2002_

_To continue from the last one, the job market sucks ass right now. No one is hiring at all, and I'm beginning to panic a little. I mean seriously! I've been helping mom out in the office a little, but damn it, I want to move out and start doing something! Ahh well, headed to Van ton the weekend to bug Cara about her new boyfriend. Dude seems pretty cool from what she's told me. Then again, anyone seems better right not compared to Damien. Dude always seemed nice, but was a totally controlling douche._

_Going for an interview tomorrow at this factory place out on Keating. Never heard of the place before, but they make fireplaces and other crap. The ad was for a labourer, hopefully they aren't expecting me to like, haul hundreds of pounds of steel all day._

_Night._

His brows raised at the mention of the job, shaking his head, he read the next entry;

_06/28/2002_

_Well, back from Van, and damn it was awesome! Cara is working towards a promotion, one of the old dudes just quit their show, and the company was scrambling to fill the void. She got me to help her throw together a quick show-idea for a Canadian Rock half hour show, showcasing a lot of local talent, and some bigger national bands. She's got a lot of the local bands supporting her like mad, but one of the older DJ's has his own idea, and some of the bean-counting tards think his will draw more listeners. Apparently he wants to do a small, half hour talk-show or some crap...during rush hour! What a tool! The bean-counters are only behind him because he has tenure or some horseshit like that. Cara is _just_ a copywriter._

_Buuut! The station is divided, with most of the personalities liking Cara's idea. One of them on the night show spilled it to the listeners, and their phones have been going ape-shit since! My sister might actually get to be a radio personality on TOP of being a copywriter! I am so, totally stoked for her!_

He sighed, remembering that. That was an awesome time for Cara, smiling at the memory, he continued reading;

_06/29/02_

_Well, I got a job! The factory place called me back and asked me if I wanted the position, and I agreed. They are starting me off in the "pipe room" as they call it. They pay is pretty sweet for an entry level, but I hear it's because the work absolutely sucks. Meh, if it's menial and dull, I can probably rock it. It's all about the money in the end right now._

_07/03/02_

_Well, they were right. The job sucks. But it's work. And I can do it pretty quickly. Damn though! I am exhausted at the end of the shift! I have to lift like, thirty pound sections of pipe, cut them on this machine, then stack them in dirty ass old buckets._

_Oh well, no one said it was going to be a clean job!_

_Some of the guys there are fucking hilarious though! Holy shit, this one guy? Martin? Dude's like 40 something but acts like a total teenager! He's one of the welders, and has been there for like, 7 years or something. I also met this one, catankerous old guy named Bob. He's a grinder. Yea, no shit: Bob the Grinder. He's been there before the company itself actually, as he sort of "came with the building". Apparently he's stoned all the time, doesn't follow any rules, doesn't wear any safety equipment, and no one can make him change. But they also can't fire him since, well...he's the best grinder they have. He knows everything, every part, every nook and cranny in the place._

_I also met another guy, Will. He's the lead hand of the "Turrets", which are the biggest machines in the place. They take sheets of metal and punch out parts some how. He's kinda sketchy looking, and he might have a thing for me or something, I don't know. He's constantly watching me for some reason, it's kinda creepy._

_Barry is the shop manager. Holy shit! Dude is scary! He's like, 6'2" and huge! Literally two of me would weigh less! I mean, the guy has a bit of a gut, but he's gotta be built like a tank! Never seems happy...I dunno. Absolutely CANNOT fuck up near him! Jesus!_

_Saved the best for last though, Cara's station has been in an uproar over the show debate! The accountants or whatever are seriously off their rockers, standing firm on the dude's talk show, while listeners keep calling in asking if the "Local Rock Show" is going to happen! Cara's phone has been ringing off the hook from the bands offering her support. Until, earlier today, it was announced that they were going to put it to a public vote: and Cara's rocking it! She's got like, twice the votes as the other dude, and it's only been a couple hours online!_

Breathing a sigh of relief, Anthony flipped the page, Rebekkah worked at the same factory, by some random miracle! Or...was it? He was about to loose his train of thought on that derailment, when Robyn looked over her shoulder, "What's up?"

"I work at the same place....possibly. But this is 2 years old...so, something might be different."

"Well, that's good at least! I found her myspace, she's got a few friends, obviously. Found a bunch of links to something to do with Cara Hall...who I think might be your sister?"

"Yep, Cara is definitely my sister."

"You're kidding me!"

"Nope. Cara Hall, the pioneer of the Local Rock Show for The Fox, is my sister."

"Son of a bitch! You gotta introduce me!"

"Well obviously! Anyways, I need to keep reading, I think."

The next few entries seemed to detail Rebekkah's daily life, mostly in regards to her job, and Cara's job. Nothing really stood out, until there was a sudden jump in the entries, a three month jump;

_15/10/02_

_Happy Birthday present much?! Well, a bit belated but anyways, Will came to talk to me today at work, talked about how he saw how hard I worked, and that he wanted me on one of the turrets. They had a bunch of new guys walking around yesterday, so I told him, sure. Barry agreed, and I got moved to the Turret's, starting tomorrow. Also, I got a raise! Sitting at thirteen an hour! Will said he went to bat for me during his "negotiation" with Barry. Apparently he really wants me over there, but not for what I thought it was earlier._

_I've been giving Will a lift half-way to Vic the past couple weeks, and found out that he's married, has a kid, and has a seething fatherly hatred of pedophiles. Turns out, one of his current workers is a total slack ass, who fucks up everything he touches, which is why I'd been hearing more than a few comments about the Turrets being slow and causing us to get behind schedual._

_Oh...and I'm getting kinda strong. Kind of weird actually, building muscle like crazy from working so hard._

_Oh, and apartment hunting this weekend._

Smirking, he remembered how it had worked out for him, pretty similar, but he'd been a grinder with Bob, not in the pipe-room. It was getting kind of eerie just how similar, but dis-similar his and her lives were. Small choices made large changes, but somethings were apparently bound to happen, or was that because the misfile tried to sort things out as closely to normal as possible? Pausing to follow this derailment, he had to wonder; Was Rebekkah exactly how he would have turned out if he'd been born female rather than male? Or had reality been skewed to follow some of the major or pivotal points in his life?

If it were the former, then does that mean that people are sort of programmed in some way that makes them susceptible to certain things? Perhaps fate and destiny are inescapable paths tied to a soul? Or if it is the former...how different _should_ Rebekkah be?

Taking a deep breath, he sighed, checking the clock: the hour had passed. "Ugh...my head really hurts, let's finish the oil change and take a drive...Universal Paradox questions are _killing_ my head!" He paused, "And besides, we should get back to Phantom."

After switching the oil filter for the new one, which Anthony showed Robyn sometimes involved the destruction of the old, filling the engine with fresh oil, and refilling the transmission, the pair headed back out to Sooke, letting Phantom out once more.

Looking to the clock on the stove as he prepared Phantom's food, he sighed. "Christ, its only 5. Know a good way to kill like six hours?"

"Not really?"

"Then we drive, cause I am not doing any more reading on Rebekkah's life tonight!" He said with gleeful grin.

"Drive where though?"

"Welll, you ever been to Port Refrew?"

"Uh, no, but I guess that's changing?" she relied while running a hand through her short black hair, slightly confused.

"Yeah, it is. Last time I was out that way was a long time ago, but I remember it being a great drive, with a lot of beautiful scenery. It's a gorgeous day, and I think we'll grab food in Renfrew, and then head out through the old logging roads to Lake Cowichan. Then loop back through Duncan and the highway."

"Sounds like a long ass haul?"

"Most definitely! We should be getting back around tenish. Maybe."

"Glad I have my music!"

They hit the gas station at the "old" intersection of town, which was just up the road from the house, making it fairly convenient. Grabbing a couple snacks and some drinks, they headed out, the long way. Anthony needed to test the car on familiar ground, and the Otter Point run was perhaps the most telling; Plenty of corners, from increasing radius, to decreasing radius, a couple sharp rises, rough, broken pavement, and perhaps the most aggravating corner he knew, short of the Fourteen Mile corner, was the Pascoe Corner, named after the side road that sits on the outside edge. It is a deceptive decreasing radius corner, with no camber to help you, often littered with gravel. It was a well known corner, and many had fallen victim to sliding off the road at it. Luckily, it wasn't a life claiming corner, or a car claiming one, but it was a reality check to the unfortunate.

Anthony grinned as he chucked the car around the road, he felt connected to the surface of the paving through the wheel. Each crack, each loose stone, every nuance of the road was communicated through the manual steering. He worked the transmission hard, cracking through downshifts before corners, and burying the throttle as he clipped the apex, sending the force fed 3 banger soaring for its redline before hammering home another gear.

Robyn kept mostly silent at first, except the occasional sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth, she felt like she was along for the ride in a roller coaster. That they came across the first sudden rise in the road that looked almost like a wall of cement, which Anthony buried the throttle on their approach. She gasped for air, certain they were going to catch some ridiculous air, then come down hard and crash into something. Instead, the car got light, and she started to feel like she was about to float out of her seat, before the car settled, and continued the mad pace Anthony was setting. She looked at Anthony like he was insane, and he shot her a grin. She couldn't help but laugh, this was definitely a roller coaster ride, but one where she apparently had to have faith in the driver, and not the safety rails.

"That was crazy! I thought we were going to be like, three feet in the air or something?!"

"Heh, not there. Not enough space to accelerate fast enough. There is one place, farther along where we probably will get a couple inches of air though."

"Jesusss!" Her exclamation was ended by another intake of breath as they bombed around a sudden sharp corner, Anthony working the wheel swiftly between his hands as the car seemed to suddenly get a bit smoother. It was then that she realized they were sliding, slightly. The tires regained their full traction, but Anthony already had the front wheels lined up perfectly with the corner exit, and the car accelerated with it's warbled cry.

Pascoe corner was dispatched with caution however, not that Robyn really seemed to notice as the tires scrabbled for traction over the loose granules of pebbles kicked onto the surface thanks to Pascoe Road itself being gravel. She uttered a breathless, "Christ!" before the rubber found purchase and continued along the aged road.

Anthony smirked, "Bah, I took that corner easy too!"

The rest of the road was a blur of swiftly taken corners, that rose and fell with the terrain of the land. Sweeping and cutting through the forests that had long ago been harvested and regrown. As they came to the end of the road, the forests wee pulled back on the hillside as the road twisted south to face the sea, and housing spread to the right of them, basking in the sunny view. Robyn gasped, "Hold on, stop now!"

Anthony hesitated, and then slowed the car, pulling over onto the shoulder as Robyn rummaged in her backpack, pulling out her camera. Climbing out of the car, Anthony followed, curiously wondering what was going on as Robyn hiked back up the road while removing the lens cap to the old camera. Turning around, she brought her eye to the viewfinder, then moved and looked again. She paused, checking back up the road from which they came, and seeing no traffic, _as if they could have kept up anyways!, _she thought, she stepped into the middle of the road and grinned. She walked back to the shoulder and looked to Anthony, who was leaning against the car, watching her. "Quick, park it in the middle of the road, facing uphill!" She then rummaged through her backpack again.

He looked at her strangely before slinging the keys around his finger and into his palm. Twisting around, he walked over the loose shoulder and climbed back into the idling car, and was about to do as requested when he saw a car pull off the highway, heading up the road. Letting them go, he checked both ways before parking the car as Robyn asked. Climbing out, he walked back to the shoulder of the road.

Robyn was busy screwing something onto the lens of the camera, and then motioned for him to stand beside her. Giving a slightly exasperated sigh, he moved, and with slender hands hooked to the pockets of his jeans, hiked up the road, "You're crazy you know that?"

Robyn turned the camera on, and used the automatic exposure meter, twisting the aperature dial of the lens around until she found the one she wanted, then adjusted the shutter speed. "You won't think so if this turns out...." She trailed off as she twisted the thing she had just put on the lens before clicking the shudder the dial once more. Steadying herself, he squeezed the shutter release slowly. The camera made a satisfying mechanical click. Thumbing the film winder, she repositioned herself, about a foot to her right, closer to the shoulder, before taking another carefully aimed and calibrated shot.

She took another two shots before standing up, at which point Anthony asked, "So...what is that thing you screwed onto the lens?"

"It's a Circular Polarizing Filter." Grinning, she handed the camera to him, "Her, look through the viewfinder at your car, and then twist the outer element of it."

"Shrugging, Anthony took the weighty camera in his hands, and did as was asked, and muttered, "Whoa...that's crazy!"

"Yeah, it works to remove refracted light. Refracted light is what causes glare, and distorts color. And since everything is refracting light today, it helps improve the colour of everything. I just hope it darkened the sky enough so that it doesn't blow out. I wish I had filter bracket so that I could use gradient filters at times like this though..."

Shaking his head, Anthony shrugged, "It'll beat the hell out of any pictures I've ever taken!"

Repacking her things, Robyn smiled. "Well, lets get going...We have a lot of ground still to cover, don't we?"

"Yeah, but next time, give me a bit of warning!"

They took a right at the intersection with the highway, as Robyn swaped CD's to A Perfect Circle's Thirteenth Step album, heading farther from Sooke on the weathered two lane road that clung to the increasingly rugged coastline of the island. Anthony kept to the speed limit now, even slowing down for corners. He let the car cool down, relaxing the warmed suspension of its previous workout. He knew two things however; he loved the handling of the miniature car, but it also needed more power to exploit its own capabilities. As it was, it was hard to keep it on the boil. The short gearing of the transmission did all that it could, but the meagre power from the diminutive engine was a deficit that just couldn't be overcome.

When they got back, he knew that he'd be looking up a manual boost controller to eke out another bit of power, but he already knew that to really get the sort of power the chassis deserved, he'd have to wait till he could swap the-"So, how did you learn to drive so well?" the teen's question shook him out of his mental thought train.

"Oh, uh.." He stumbled, collecting his thoughts, his eyes glanced down to the speedometer, and he swallowed, christ, it didn't feel like they were doing seventy! Easing off, he looked back to the road, his eyes snagging on the view of the slender, feminine arms and hands before him, "Well, last year I went over to Mission and went through their driving course for my vacation time. It was either that, or drop the money on a carbon wrapped driveshaft...I went for the better bang for the buck. I shaved several seconds off my record at Mission, and cut a lot of time out of my autocross runs as well. Otherwise, I don't know really? The instructors at Mission were somewhat impressed by my driving, but I was focusing on every corner in and of itself. Not thinking about how to string corners together. Which is typical for someone who doesn't do frequent circuit work. On roads, like this, you can't memorize each and every corner, you can't really plan ahead for the next corner, or four corners later, so you have to take it one at a time.

"It's one of the few things that I seem to be actually good at." shrugging, he glanced to the girl and prodded, "So what about you? Have your license?"

"Yeah," she paused to move tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, "I checked already, it appears I got it on my sixteenth, like I did before. The eagerness to escape Gord apparently transcends time."

"Ever thought about what you were going to drive?"

"Uhm, not really? Normal life? I would end up with some five hundred dollar shitbox, but I have the feeling you aren't going to let me do that, are you?"

He couldn't help but laugh, "Hey, my first car _was_ a shitbox! And it depends on the shitbox, Nissan Micra shitbox? No. Geo Metro shitbox? Gods no! Not unless it's a firefly turbo, or a Sprint GTI. Then yes. Shitbox like Gord's? Not if you held me at gunpoint! Oh, and you will _not_ touch a J-body so long as I breathe air!"

Giggling slightly, she had to ask, "Okay, okay, but what's a J-body, and why must I avoid it like the plague?"

"Because it _is_ the plague! J-bodys are Chevy Cavaliers, or Pontiac Sunfires, or a bunch of different names. They are all the same though; cheap, soulless, piles of shit not fit to grace the road. Some of their owners think otherwise, and would probably try to hang me for saying it, but I personally think they were a step down from the Chevette. Less reliable, heavier, uglier, front drive...ugh, you name it, I hate it about those cars. Atleast a Chevette was so dead simple, it was practically a glorified tractor! There simply wasn't anything to go wrong on them!"

"Okay then, what would you suggest?"

"Well, a job, so you can afford more than a five hundred dollar shitbox first. Second...depends on you really. A small car like this, especially like this probably wouldn't be bad, but they are expensive for what they are, and the aftermarket is both across the ocean, and owned by people who speak another language. Makes it hard. The normal small cars, like the Sprint GTI and Firefly Turbo I was talking about are kind of beleagured by everyone else because they make very little power numerically. But they also weigh nothing at all. They have a bit of aftermarket available here, but nothing extravagant. There's also Honda to consider in the segment, but I have a personal loathing for Honda-" Sighing, he shook his head, "Well, not Honda itself, but the owners of Hondas. All those fucktards with ricey exhaust, giant wheels, and ridiculous wings? Yeah, hate it all. And they all flock to Honda. I mean, if you could find a CRX Si or just about any CRX with a clean body, they make great building blocks, because Honda cars are like Legos. It's just about plug and play engine swaps, suspension upgrades and bigger brakes.

I gotta mention the Chevette here too, because I did that, and know pretty much all there is _to know_ about building one. But, they are also a pain in the ass. You have to swap the engine to get power, which means a new trans. And the rear axle only takes up to like, a hundred and twenty horsepower before it starts twisting like a pretzel. But I already know how to do a rear suspension on them, and what engines would fit. Still though, it's a Chevette."

Robyn sat, nodding. She was listening, and trying to take it all in, but she had a feeling, that this could become a long conversation. She was just about to make some kind of acknowledging noise, when something went past them in the other lane, "Mmrah! What was that?"

"That went past us right now?"

"Yeah, it was nice looking."

"That! That means you have taste!" He joked and elicited a smile from the young italian. "It was a Second generation Toyota Supra. Fairly common, but it is a bit on the heavy side. And by heavy, I mean nearing 3000 pounds. But the engine is a nice one, a two-point-eight litre inline six. Well, I guess most people would say its crap, because the car is kinda slow in today's terms, and there isn't much aftermarket for it. But there are ways to improve it."

"Hmm, alright. Anything else like it?"

"Quite a bit actually. It was made in the mid eighties, and during that time, Japan had a sort of "Sports Car War" going on between Toyota, Nissan, and Mazda as the major players, with Mitsubishi in there too, and Isuzu kind of screaming 'Me Too!' at the back. Nissan was using the 280Z, 280ZX, and the 300ZX around then. The 280Z looked the best, better than the Supra if you ask me. It's an evolution of the earlier 240Z. But a bit bigger, a bit heavier, and while more powerful, also a bit slower because of the weight. Lucky if you can find one cheaply though. The 280ZX was a thorough evolution of the chassis, and the body, making it look more modern in the eighties, but...if you ask me, looked like shit. It had some of the curves from the earlier cars in the front, but the back end was all angular. Looked disproportionate to me. The first gen 300ZX followed, and looked a lot cleaner in appearance to my eye. But again, weight went up. Though they did switch from the old inline six, to a newer v6.

"Mazda of course, had their RX-7. The first gen was light, stupidly light, and made about a hundred-twenty or so horsepower. Less than either of its competitors, but it also weighed like six, to eight-hundred pounds less. Put it somewhere around roughly equal in power to weight, but because it had less mass, could corner better. Sort of. But it has a lot of quirks, first of all, being the Rotary engine. Then there's the second gen, which, while it did add a little weight, it wasn't much. But, here things get expensive...if you want to Turbo model.

"Mitsubishi had a small part to play with the Starion, also badged as a Dodge Conquest. Trust me, you don't find these things often. I think they rusted out fast or something, because I hadn't even heard of one, till two years ago, and I still have never seen one in person! But they used a turbocharged four-cylinder, and was on par for weight with the Supra and 280ZX.

"Isuzu were the odd guys, and used a modified version of the Chevette chassis to build the first generation Impulse. Pretty good looking, looks a lot like a VW Sirocco if you know what those look like. Anyways, it's a 4 cylinder, rear drive, and some had turbochargers, but again...it's rare, and there isn't much aftermarket. It also had some rather twitchy handling I've heard. But they also made a second generation one, which changed a lot. Changed to a front drive for most of the models, but there was an all-wheel drive model, with a turbocharged engine. I always wanted one but the aftermarket it quite limited. Still though, I want one, and would probably try and get one if I could find one."

"Hmm, that's a lot of cars." She asked the slightly dangling question, "So why did you want the Impulse so much?"

"Well, I have always liked things that aren't as popular as everything else. Don't know why, but I just don't follow the crowds very well. I mean, when I was fourteen, most guys my age lusted after Ferrari, Lamborghini and Porsche. Me? I had a poster of a Jaguar XJ220 on my wall. Hell, most people find a Chevette to be ugly as sin. Me, I kind of like the way they look. It's simple, plain, and not over-styled. The Isuzu? Don't know specifically why, but I like the way it looks. I know it doesn't have the best handling in the world, and it does have a smaller engine for its class but...I dunno, it seems like a sweet car, something of a challenge. I mean, a Honda? There's no challenge there. Just go online, find a recipe that you think will work with your budget, and go at it. It's dead simple. It's all been done before. I kind of like the Supra that way too. I mean, everyone else likes the third or fourth gen models because they were faster and more powerful. I mean, yeah, the 2JZ in the fourth gen Supra can be built to make over 1200 horsepower or something ridiculous like that, but...Who is going to use that power? Me? You? Anyone really? Unless there's a sudden proliferation of drag racing...not likely here. The 5M in the Second gen Supra puts out around a hundred-sixty, stock. If your lucky. But it can take the exhaust manifold from the third-gen's 7M and be turbocharged through mostly bolt on parts and make around two-twenty horsepower. Which makes it quick enough, and through a bit of tinkering, three hundred is more than possible. Back to the Isuzu anyways, there is some performance parts out there, but it's mostly from the guys who work on the cars themselves. It's like it's own little cottage industry. Since no one in the big names makes parts for the cars, guys with the know how went and designed parts for the car themselves, test them on their own cars, and offer them to other owners, primarily through word of mouth and message boards."

"What? Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's pretty common actually. You get a bunch of gear heads to love something, but don't give them any kind of aftermarket support? They'll start building things from scratch or adapting things from something else to work for their use. It's happened since cars first became available to the common man. People used to do some _crazy_ things back then!"

Her interest piqued, Robyn probed the tome of automotive lore, "Really, like what?"

"Back then, there were legends of guys basically drilling holes in oak beams, attaching parts, and bolting on a bike engine and racing it, or stripping parts off of different cars to build something from the frame up..."

They continued on to Port Renfrew, stopping at the local hotel for dinner in the tiny village that had a yearly population of less than a thousand residents. The setting was that of rustic tranquility, overlooking a small bay into which township was nestled, they sat on a patio that connected to the local docks. Mountains draped in heavy forest all the way to the waterline seemed to surround them. The loudest thing they could hear was that of the other people eating, the occasional fishing boat returning to port, and the crying of seagulls as they hovered by the docks, waiting for the cast-offs from the fishermen.

Anthony was in fine form, explaining the relationship of camshafts and valves, in relation to variable valve timing, and why it was a good thing to have, and why he wanted it on the engine he hoped to get from Japan. Robyn smiled and listened, taking mental notes when Anthony paused, looking at her intently in the eyes. Blushing a brilliant red, she cast her eyes down to her plate, while bringing her right hand to her brow, "Please, don't say anything..."

"What? I just...hadn't noticed that your eyes were two different colours. Pretty sweet."

"Ugh, bullshi-"

"_What?"_ Anthony lost his grasp on the spoon, and it clattered back into the bowl of organic beef and barley soup. "Sorry, wait, not. I'm not sorry for this: I don't know why the hell you'd think that, but your eyes are gorgeous!"

Retreating inwardly, she murmured softly, "Please...let it go...people are looking."

Stalling in mid diatribe, Anthony peered around at the inquisitive diners, and gave a weak grin while blushing slightly before returning to his soup. Sighing softly, he muttered under his breath, "Sorry...I over reacted," pausing to swallow another mouthful of soup, he continued, "I just...ugh, I have this, or had this friend. Christine. I've known her since middle school. And she's always been sort of heavy. Partly due to her build, which is also short, so it doesn't help much. Anyways, she's ridiculously self-conscious, even though she is beautiful. She refuses to accept that anyone can find her attractive. Which, really pisses me off. I mean, we lived together as roomies for a while before she moved to Van with her boyfriend to go to school. Anyways, one day she left her journal-diary thing on the couch in the living-room. Now, I mean, I wish I could say I didn't snoop and read it, but...I'd been worried about her. She was getting more and more depressed recently so it kind of drove me to investigate. Anyways, I didn't read much, hell, I hadn't even checked her more recent entries. Just the first two pages. And it just...infuriated me." He drew in a deep breath, resting the spoon on the side of the bowl. "She put herself down, in her own journal over how much she weighed. How ugly she was. How small her chest was. Her skin, her hair, everything. I couldn't read this about her, because it hurt so much to know how much she loathed _how she looked!"_ Sighing, he paused, looking to the forest as he formed the words next.

"I don't think she ever knew I did that, but I worried about her. I mean, she is beautiful, italian heritage like you, but...she refused to accept the idea from the people who cared about her, that she was pretty, that she wasn't ugly. That she wasn't grotesquely obese. She let the idea of the media, and the people who were jealous of her intellect fuck with her mind. She should be above that. She should know, and believe that society's view of perfect is unattainable, and completely flawed in its own way. So should you. You seem smart, intelligent, talented....everything. So why the hell do you let the ignorant, idiotic masses tell you, that you are ugly? Why do you believe it?"

She'd stopped eating, the view of her plate had become hazy through tears that formed while listening to the soft voice of Rebekkah (or Anthony?), as she worded her very personal argument. When the question came, she caught her breath, and scratched at her mind. _Was it true? I hate the fucking media, I hate the fashion bullshit, I don't listen to them! Do I?_

"Don't know do you?"

Sobbing slightly as she shrugged and shook her head, she closed her eyes, and slowly opened them looking through the fluid distortion to Rebekkah and sighed, forcing herself not to breakdown fully, "Le...Let's get going, I'm not really hungry right now."

Agreeing, Anthony paid for the dinner, and lead Robyn back to the car, opening the door for her and then climbing in himself. They left the quiet village and turned off for the logging roads, and the gravel "highway" out to Lake Cowichan. The car was silent for a while, until Robyn held up her hand as they started crossing a bridge over a deep ravine. "Please....stop on the other side of the bridge..."

Slowing down, he looked out the far window and saw why she wanted to stop. At the end of the bridge, he pulled the car as far over to the side of the road as he could, and climbed out. The younger of the two already had her camera out but fussed in her backpack for something else, coming back with two black leather cylinders, one fairly short, the other longer, each about four inches in diameter. She worked quickly, Dismounting the lens from the camera, and sliding it into the larger of the cylinders, and pulling the lens from the smaller case and then twisting it onto the bayonet mount of the body. She smiled slightly to him, and he finally realized why he hadn't noticed her eyes before; she was always positioning herself so that she could look at people from the side. Thus, he had only seen one eye at a time, and since he wasn't paying attention, never noticed the differing colours. Her right eye was a sparkling emerald green, while her left, a deep dark brown.

However, it was the stunning view that they stood suspended within on the bridge. On one side, falling from the mountains ran a swift flowing stream, carving its way down through the stone in steps. Rough moss and lichen covered cliffs rose from the turbulent stream up to the thick, rich forest that stopped only at the very edge. Turning around, revealed narrow peek between the lush evergreen rainforest, over the mountain sides of densely growing woods.

Leaning on the railing, he sighed, taking it in as Robyn frantically seemed to be taking picture after picture, trying to capture the perfect angle to take this remarkable vista with. Soon though, the roll of film ended, and she walked over to Anthony, winding the film back onto the roll inside the camera. "It's stunning, isn't it?"

"And humbling." Sighing he looked back to her, "Look, I'm sorry for embarrassing you back there, but I did mean what I said."

"Yeah," she paused, looking down the ravine, "I know I guess. But...Its just...dammit! I can't think of how to say it!"

"Heh, you don't need to."

They stood in silence for a while, before Robyn muttered, "It's Waardensburg Syndrome."

"Hmm?"

"It's Waardensburg." She said slightly louder, "It's...a rare congenital disease or whatever that can cause deafness or other complications. I have what's known as Type 2. I'm partially deaf, meaning I can't hear high pitched noises, and that's why my eyes are different."

"Hmmm."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, don't really know what else to say. But if you have only two months to live, you'd better tell, me; cause I'd be forced to make sure its the most awesome 2 months possible!" He gave her a wide shit-eating grin and she shook her head.

"Hmm, maybe I should tell you that then?"

"Too late, you gave your hand away. Now you just have to deal with me making your life weird as all hell for however long it takes to get this shit fixed."

"Hmm, damn."

"So, you wanna drive?"

Robyn stalled as she turned back towards the car, and revolved back to face the brunette who had the keys dangling from the tip of her finger. "What?"

"I'm asking if you want to give the runty car a go?"

"Isn't it getting dark? And we're in the middle of no where?"

Cocking his head to the side a bit as Rebekkah's hair fell around his shoulders, he tapped a foot on the gravel lightly, jingling the keys as he did so. "Look, you don't have to if you're not comfortable with it, but just be direct about it. I'm just asking if you want to try driving the Alto."

"Erhm" Shrugging, she sighed, "Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Alright, let's roll."

Not five minutes later, Anthony slowed the car, listening to the wind through the open window. Suddenly he started rolling up the window, "Quick, close yours too." Robyn blinked, and did as she was asked, rolling the window up quickly. She asked what was going on, but Anthony merely held up a hand as they slowly trundled up a straight incline towards a hair pin. He started curling fingers down, counting down seconds, that when Robyn heard and felt it. The deep roar coming towards them. Anthony hit five...sighed, and shook his fist at his miscalculation. They were close to the hairpin now, and Anthony pulled the car to a stop. Robyn looked at him, and then to car sailing sideways out of the hairpin; it was black with a flat-red painted driver's fender. The hood was missing, allowing the engine to bask in the fresh air and sun. She watched it fishtail into where the Alto might have been had Anthony continued, and then it roared-no, _thundered_ past them, enveloping them in a thick cloud of dust that blocked the view of the road for almost twenty seconds.

A low whistle escaped Anthony, "Damn, that dude has skill."

"Skill? That looked like he was utterly out of control!"

"Well, he went into the corner a bit hot, but he held it. And that must be a bitch of a car to control on this road. Looked like a Fox Body Mustang...sounded like straight pipes, and from his speed, in excess of four hundred horsepower."

"That, sounds like a lot?"

"It is...I hope I see that guy again."

The rest of the trip back to Sooke was fairly uneventful. Coming up through the southside of Lake Cowichan, and through the string of small communities before hitting Duncan, and then blasting along Malahat with deep purple skies from the setting sun overhead. They arrived back in Sooke a little after eleven, and the moon was glowing in the sky, casting a vivid reflection off the calm water in the harbour. Phantom was released to the out-doors once more, before they ended up in the living room, Anthony sprawled out on the floor with Phantom curled up in front of him as he read more of the diary they brought, while Robyn settled in to watch some History channel documentary.

He continued from where he left off, and it seemed as though she still worked the same job, and knew the same people in the company. He had to wonder, was this luck going to continue? Did he know all the same people? Did Rebekkah have the same friends as he did? Did she have more? Less? "H-hey...you think this misfile shit like, tried to make Rebekkah's life as close to mine as possible?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?" Robyn looked down, her concentration on the show broken.

"Well, I mean...take identical twins for example: They are genetic clones of eachother pretty much, but regardless, they inevitably grow up differently, with different tastes, different thoughts. Regardless of how similar they are when born, they grow up to be individuals. Now take my situation. Two children are born, to the same parents, same sister, same exact environment, but like, two different dimensions. Logic states that they would grow up identically. But if one is male, and one is female, they should grow up radically different. Shouldn't they?"

Silence. Robyn looked at him with a blank stare.

"What? I can't help but wonder about this, because it's like, Rebekkah and I are so similar in a lot of ways. But some things are so radically different. I mean, I don't think that anything _should_ be similar, because a parent will react differently with their son versus their daughter. And they grow up to different societal views. But, I just got to the part of where Rebekkah was going about buying the Alto. And she's writing about how she always liked cars, and dragged the family to the Coombs car show once...But...I can't help but wonder, WHY she likes cars? In any possible rational...train of thought or whatever, she shouldn't. My dad was never a car guy, I was the one who got my sister to sort of understand cars, and none, I mean _none_ of my friends were ever into cars. So why did Rebekkah like them?"

"Uhh.....this is all sort of going over my head I think." She shook her head, sending her short, wavy hair flying before shrugging, "I seriously don't know Re...er, Anthony."

Smirking, he sighed, "I'm just saying that, I think if I _had_ been born a girl rather than a boy, that I don't think I would have turned out like Rebekkah here, and it is sort of making my mind buzz wondering what she _should_ be like. I'm also wondering, that, since this misfile seems to have tried to make our lives as parallel to each other as possible, but it couldn't make it exact: What other differences are in store for me? I mean, like, when I was in middle school, I was a total loner for a while, then this chick walked up to me one day and asked me if I'd go out with her. Without that happening, I never would have met my best friend Christine, who was part of her friend group at that time. I haven't read about Christine yet in this, and it's sort of scaring me that I might not be able to know my best friend. But if I do know her...how the hell did I meet her?"

"Hmmm, okay, Yeah, I think I know what you're getting at, and yes; that is weird, and probably scary as hell..."

"Intriguing as well..."

"Wait, what? Intriguing? Seriously? I'd probably be more worried if I were you!"

"Heh, I can't help it! I...I'm a bit of a fan of the theoretical and possible realities. Now we're smack in the middle of one, and I can't help but be scared, and fascinated by it at the same tim-" His expression just changed as if he'd been hit with a bolt of lightning. "Uh....shit."

"What now?"

"Nothing, other than the fact that we now know that God, and Angels, exist."

Robyn choked on that one a bit, the weight of it hitting her like a brick to the forehead. "Shit....Bible, Testament, and all that horseshit ridiculous bullshit is real?"

"Uhhh....I don't know? It seems to shit-kick my personal theories, cause I for one, am not...er, well, was not exactly a good Christian."

"And I am?"

They sat in silence for a while, contemplating the very fact that they had been visited by a full on Angel, had their lives messed up by Heaven, and were now, not only smack in the middle of a theoretical reality conundrum, but the center of the theological debate over the existence of a religion, which neither of them had truly believed in before hand. Robyn broke the silence first, her voice faint, "Does this mean we have to go to church now?"

They stewed in their thoughts over this sudden realization for another hour before Anthony stood up and stretched, causing the little dog to look up at him with her large, and expressive dark chocolate brown eyes. Leading her to her kennel and bed, he bid her goodnight and then grabbed the purse he had left on the dining room table, and walked back to the entrance of the house. He looked over to Robyn who was busy trying her shoes on. "Ready for this?" He asked as he grabbed his own pair of shoes and slid them onto his now smaller, more slender feet, while fighting with his hair that kept falling into his field of vision, hampering his progress at tying his shoes. "Dammit! I'm going to cut this shit off tomorrow!"

Laughing, Robyn walked over while removing a bracelet from her left wrist, handing it to Anthony. It turned out to be a hair elastic. "This should help, so don't cut your hair."

He sighed and pulled back his hair like he'd seen his sister do before and wrapped the elastic around the shank of hair he had bundled at the back of his head, getting a slight smirk from Robyn. "What?"

"You, are definitely male. Here, let me, otherwise everyone else that sees you will know as well!" Chuckling as she stepped behind Anthony, and crouched. She pulled the elastic out of the unevenly bunched hair, straightened it all out again. "You had it crooked, and it was uneven, you had tufts sticking out between the wraps of the elastic as well..."

He grumbled something unintelligible while blushing slightly. Prompting Robyn to tug his hair, "Don't bitch about being a bitch!" She laughed as she finished off the ponytail properly. "There, now get your shoes on and lets go."

They took the drive out to Esquimalt quietly, listening to the Tea Party again while staying around the speed limit so as to not attract unwanted attention from the police. It was around one in the morning, and all the roads were almost dead, including the highway. When they arrived, Anthony parked the car two houses up, and pointed away from the house, waiting for them so that they could make a quick escape if necessary. Leaving the rear hatch ajar, they silently slipped up to the house. Robyn peered in through the softly glowing living-room windows, seeing softly flickering blue light of the television washing over the passed-out form of Gord. She nodded to Anthony, and moved around to the side of the house, they stopped under her bedroom window, which she always left cracked open, even in the winter. She removed the window screen with practiced ease, and climbed in through the black opening into her bedroom, Anthony giving her an assist when she lost her footing against the siding of the wall.

Anthony followed, hooking his hands upon the sill, and jumping while straightening his arms, hauling himself into the opening. Just as he got his right foot perched on the sill, the door latch clicked, and he froze like a deer in the headlights. The door opened slightly, and Robyn let out her breath that had caught in her throat. The door opened wider and a slender figure slipped into the room before the lights turned on, momentarily blinding Anthony before his eyes adjusted. He realized who entered, and that it was Robyn's mother. She looked as though she was straight from Italy, with her olive toned skin and long black hair. She clucked softly as she snatched Robyn into her arms, "I'm so glad you're alright! Gord's been in a mood tonight...and...who is this?"

"Mom, this is Rebekkah...she's why Gord is pissed..." Her mother looked over the other girl, and saw the raw skin on her knuckles. She opened her mouth about to ask, but then it dawned on her, the deep bruise that was on Gord's cheek. "She...she suggested I stay at her parent's place, for a bit...you know...so...well..Gord can...cool down..." Her speech was hesitant, nervous, quiet, and afraid.

Her mother hugged her again as Rebekkah slid down into the room, "Shhh, honey, it's okay. Do you need anything from the living-room? Bathroom?"

Peeling away from her mother, the scent of lilac and cigarettes following her nose, and nodded. "I...bathroom stuff, and the film I have in the fridge I think."

Her mother nodded, and slipped out silently as a ghost.

Robyn pulled a military duffel bag out of her closet and quickly began stuffing clothes into it, while motioning to Rebekkah to grab more of her art supplies, a box of paints, a small tube she used to hold her brushes in, another sketchbook and some pens. Rebekkah reminded her to grab some swim wear, which puzzled Robyn at first, but she shrugged, and grabbed it anyways, tossing it into the duffel, before she turned to her CD collection, pulling out the CD wallet she had brought, and started exchanging discs.

Her mother slipped back in, catching them off guard a second time as she carried a plastic shopping bag with her. Walking through the narrow path of clothes that littered the floor, she handed the bag to her daughter and stooped to kiss her forehead. Robyn looked up to her mother, "I was going to write you a note so that you would know where I was and wouldn't worry."

"Dear, thank you." She smiled and sighed.

"Mom, what's wrong?" She paused as she was putting the bag in the duffel.

"Nothing dear, its...nothing. Just take care of yourself, and," she turned to Rebekkah, "Thank you so much."

Zipping closed the duffel, Robyn looked back to her mother, "Are you okay mom?"

"Honey, call me at work when you can to check in? And don't worry about me, I've been okay for the past six years." With a warm smile, the woman slipped back out the door, switching the light off as she disappeared.

Sliding out the window, and to the Alto, they drove back to Rebekkah's, grabbing some more of her clothing, her computer, a few more odds and ends, before they were back on the road to Sooke. As they hit the highway out of Langford, the half-moon illuminated the road like a thread of silver winding its way through the black forests. They followed the ribbon in silence, letting the sound of the warm summer night air flowing through the open windows sooth their nerves and frayed emotions.


	4. Chapter 4

Warmth. Deep, soft, comforting warmth. Warmth with a cozy weight to it. She squirmed slightly deeper under the covers of the bed. Relishing in the comfort. Wanting to forget the awareness that was slowly dragging her away from her slumber.

She started to drift again, when she heard something. Muted, but then it stopped as soon as it had begun, and the sweet lullaby of the bed started recalling her back to her dreams. She heard it again, disrupting the sweet calm. It was a deep, rumbling...rattle? Groaning, she cracked an eye to the dimly lit room. Across the rumpled field of the pillow, stood the darkly laden bookcase. The thick metal blades of the blinds in the window blocked the morning sun, except for small cracks which streamed brilliance into her eyes. The dresser under the window and its little clock let her know that it was six twenty.

The rattle came again, this time longer, more insistent. As it passed, it was followed by a deep "Meeerooow!" Anthony had given her fair warning that the cat could be a persistently annoying little bastard. Opening her other eye as she sighed, she rolled over and looked to the door. She watched as a white tipped paw slid under the door, and started rattling it again. Another pitiful yowl came.

Wondering if she could wait the beast out, her mind fell onto Anthony...or Rebekkah. Or whoever was which. It was awkward really; she knew that mentally at least, he was Anthony. But the form didn't follow the function as it were. Rebekkah, was just pure femininity. Worse, was that in the midst of _acting_ like Rebekkah, even she could have a hard time remembering that this other girl, wasn't reall-totally a woman. Sort of. Robyn sighed as the door rumbled again. At least Anthony seemed to have intelligence and wasn't just some other arrogant, ignorant cock. She had to smirk at that thought, this sort of situation happening to a jock, or some ignorant, sexist prick. Then it'd almost be divine, poetic justice.

Rattle.

Course, that brought to mind just how _well_ Anthony seemed to be coping in the first day of being a woman. Aside from a few slips, he was playing it well. Sort of eerily so. She couldn't imagine waking up one day as a guy. Although it might be easier than what Anthony was facing. Women have their ways, and it might take Anthony a while to pick up on it. Guys however, were simple. At the very least, she wouldn't have to worry about her period then. That would be a relief.

Rattle, "Merrooow!"

She rolled back over and fell into another train of thought. Besides that though, she was faced with the staggering realization that yes, indeed, God, and Angels existed. Yet...she had thought of herself as an Atheist. She despised the Bible and all it's mis-translated, contradictory bullshit, she loathed Christian zealots, and people who jut passed off the world's ills as, "God's Will", or "God's Plan". But, she still celebrated Christmas, didn't she? Easter? She hated how commercialized Christmas was, she hated how people ignorantly forgot the reason for either, in the desire and greed that the marketing companies spawned.

Rattle, "Merrrrooowww!" Rattle.

But hypothetically, if she were atheist, and God still exists...What does that mean for other, actual religions? What of Allah, Buddha, and the numerous other faiths of the world? Do God and Angels exist with Allah and the rest? Have God and Heavenly Host parties? Do they despise each other? Are there wars between Pantheons of different faiths? Or is it _just_ God? Or does God go by different names?

"Mrrrooow!" Rattle!

"Augh, you win!" muttering as she flipped the blankets off of her, sliding off the bed as the air sucked the warmth from her skin and clothes. Her feet touched cool hardwood, and she walked over to the door, twisted the ratchety knob, and opened the wooden slab. A black blur streaked past her legs and bounded onto the bed, which settled under the feline's weight with a creak. Muttering as she closed the door, she turned around, greeted by a cool, yellow-green eyed stare, questioning who she was, and why she was in his room.

Extending her hand to the black and white cat, he cocked his head to the side as he boldly sniffed the oils of her skin. Declaring her as part of his kingdom, he rubbed his cheeks against her hand, surprising her by the force of the action, literally pushing her hand around until she offered resistance. Twisting her fingers around she gave the old tomcat a quick scratch.

Accepted, Robyn crawled back into the bed, pulling the thick covers over herself as she watched the little monster at the end of the bed carefully cleaning his ears and cheeks. She sat, entranced by the power and charm this little Emperor exuded. She wished she could capture the strange confidence this cat had on film, but the lighting, not without a tripod. However...rolling over to the side of the bed, she pulled her sketchbook from the open maw of the backpack, and fished out a pencil.

When she rose, she was greeted by a piercing stare, those golden-green eyes watching her with such intensity, they seemed to burn into her memory. She started sketching them first. Pencil to paper, she worked to sketch the posture, and the feeling of Noel, trying to capture it before he moved too much, but as cats have their way, he laid down, still however, watching her. His ears twitching with every sound, and more than she could hear herself.

She flipped the page and started anew. Copying his relaxed form onto the page swiftly, she began to focus on the details; the damaged fringes of his ears, the small black spot on his nose, and the changing color of the pads on his feet. Small things became whole in shades of graphite.

She was working on those intelligent, piercing eyes when there came a proper knock upon the door, "Wake up! Pancakes!" It was the feminine voice of Rebekkah. The distraction tore her away enough to look at the clock...it was damned near seven thirty. Stretching out her lengthy posture, she gave the cat a smile a he slowly blinked and turned his head to look at the window, one ear swiveled however to monitor her actions as he otherwise paid attention to the chirping of birds outside.

Hooking the pencil inside the spiral winding, she set the sketchbook down beside her on the second pillow before sliding out from underneath the covers, her feet settling onto the cool wood floor again. Walking to the door, her hand ran over the cat's head before she left the room. The smell of bacon hit her like a hammer, instantly causing her mouth to water as she walked into the dinning room. "You said nothing about bacon!"

"Did I really need to?"

Rolling her eyes and she stepped into the kitchen, Anthony handed her a plate, as he flipped the crackling strips of meat in the frying pan. "Sleep well?" He asked while looking over his shoulder to his new friend.

While spearing a pair of pancakes and dropping them upon her plate, Robyn nodded, "Atleast until Noel woke me, demanding attention."

"Henh, yeah. That cat loves to be noticed. He doesn't always want to be petted though, so be careful of that, he does still have his claws, though Shyla might be a bit more hazardous in that regard."

"Oh? How is that?"

"Sharpness. She doesn't use her claws like Noel does, so hers are like needles, they pierce through anything. And she's the faster of the two, even though she's like 15. Oh, butter's in the cupboard. Forgot about that."

Robyn shook her head, "Hmm, crazy cats. Actually though, where's your jam?"

"Jam?" Anthony looked at her inquisitively before shrugging, "Don't know if my parents even have jam. If they do, it'd be most likely in the fridge. No one in my family is big on jam really. Least of all on pancakes."

Opening the fridge door, Robyn peered into the white confines, "Hunh, your family is weird. Jam is awesome, and you're all missing out! There isn't even any in here!"

"Hmmm, sorry, didn't know."

"Ahh well, means I'll have to settle for butter and syrup then..." She let out an overly dramatic sigh, causing Anthony to chuckle.

"Oh the hardships you face!" He quickly fished a couple strips of bacon out of the pan, and laid them on Robyn's plate as the girl waited. Turning off the stove, he filled his own plate and followed Robyn to the dinning room, sitting at the large wooden table.

"I am so going to be drawing this view sometime." Robyn sighed as she peered out the window that overlooked the ocean. "Anyways, what is the plan?"

"Heh, the view never does get old. But the plan? Well, we're going to be leaving a bit earlier than I intended. I'd forgotten to get a torque wrench yesterday, and I want to make sure the lugs are tightened to spec before really abusing the car today. Otherwise, dress for the weather, and go pretty much."

Robyn considered that as she swallowed some of the pancake she was chewing on, "And the plan for Kevin?"

"I'll figure that out when we get there."

After they had eaten breakfast, Anthony let Robyn take her shower first, while he took Phantom outside. It was going to be a gorgeous day, that was clear as he stooped to pick up a dirty tennis ball from the doorstep, Phantom barking loudly in response, spinning around in overjoyed excitement before scampering down the stairs after the lobbed ball to the side yard. Snatching it from the ground, the odd black dog looked back at Rebekkah before trudging off to relieve herself.

Anthony sighed and leaned on the railing, staring out through the clean clear air over the Spit, and past the jutting edge of East Sooke to the fog bank that prowled the Juan De Fuca straight. Letting the view melt his tensions, he relaxed for a moment. Various cars were lined up and down the street, all for Sunday morning Mass at the church. The old white building just across from his road probably seating its maximum capacity, and the people within all happy and content for follow their beliefs. "And they'd all call me a hereti-", his spoken thoughs were cut off in surprise as a loud bark came from below and to his side.

Looking up at him from the bottom of the stairs with a stained yellow ball in her mouth, Phantom waited, expectantly. As Rebekkah smiled at the little mongrel, Phantom started chewing on the ball. "Phantom, Give!"

Chew, chomp...splut! The ball launched from her teeth by accident and Phantom snapped after the skittering ball.

Laughing he descended the stairs and followed the little dog, "Come on Pup, give me the ball! I can't play with you if you don't!" And the game began, letting Anthony forget about all the preposterous situation he found himself in. Just focusing on the little dog, and having, for a moment, a bit of fun while listening to the forty pound monster tearing across the grass, her strides hammering into the earth with solid authority. It was hard not to admire the strength the supposed runt of the litter possessed. Built like a small bulldog almost, Phantom was all about brute force, effervescent happiness, and endless energy.

In a short time, Phantom was panting heavily, and Anthony was breathing hard after playing a couple rounds of his patented "Fetch and Seek" game where he threw the ball, and then would run the opposite direction, and hide on the pup, forcing her to run more, and exercise her other senses. Now laying in the grass, and relaxing, Anthony watched the little dog and kind of wished he could be like her. No cares, no worries. Meanwhile Phantom kept the ball between her forepaws, ready for him to make any move, but as she waited, she panted, her thick long tongue lolling out the left side of her jaw and dripping saliva.

Eventually he shifted, and Phantom snatched the ball into her teeth, watching him, hoping for more fun and games, but instead Anthony rose and walked into the house, leaving Phantom waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. Inside he found Robyn out of the shower and already throwing things into her backpack. She was however, dressed in massive baggy black jeans, and from what he could see, an equally large black hoodie displaying her love of Corrosion of Conformity. "Ahem..."

she looked up, puzzled, "Yeah?"

"You looking to commit suicide today or something?" He looked at her clothes incredulously.

Her face suddenly shifted, disgust and anger flowing through her features, "Oh fuck you, and your judgmental bullshit! Just because I'm goth doesn't mean I'm going to fucking commit suicide!"

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head, "I meant the fact that wearing that while at Western will kill you. Ever been to Western in the Summer? It's kind of a bowl at the base of the mountains, it collects humidity. The entire place is paved with no buildings or trees nearby for shade. If you wear that, you are going to suffer heat stroke in less than an hour."

Blushing slightly at her outburst, she sighed and shook her head. "I...hadn't thought about it. Victoria doesn't get that bad."

"Because it is flat, and open to the breeze that runs down the straights. Also, the buildings give you plenty of shade, not to mention it is direct waterfront. Western is set a bit inland. Don't you have shorts and a t shirt?"

Pulling off the hoodie, she revealed a black t-shirt from Arch Enemy, prompting Anthony to slap his palm to his forehead just to express his opinion on the matter. "Shorts out? Anything _not_ black?"

"I think I have a yellow shirt from some band...at home."

Anthony sighed and shook his head. "Well, lets go I guess, we might have time to stop by my place and try to find you a change, cause otherwise you will be sweating to all hell and utterly hate it."

"It won't be that bad, I'm kind of used to it." Robyn rolled her eyes now.

"Ready otherwise?" getting a nod, he grabbed his purse from the counter in the kitchen, checked for keys, made sure there was water in Phantom's water bowl, and the headed to the front door, "Lets roll!"

With Stabbing Westward pouring from the Alto's speakers thanks to Robyn's expanded CD selection, they took advantage of the quiet Sunday roads to hustle it into Langford, not excessively speeding, but keeping an aggressive pace, and paying little heed to the "Sharp Corner" signs, tossing the little hatchback through the flowing turns like a toy.

A quick stop at Rebekkah's place rewarded the duo with a a pair of dark grey shorts that would sort of fit the tall italian, well enough for now at any rate. After that came the quick buzz down to the Canadian Tire and grabbing the last torque wrench that was in stock, and a socket that would even fit the Alto's lug nuts. Finally, they were on their way up Millstream Rd, and turning off into the expansive parking lot, virtually empty except for the small cluster of cars crowding about two white tents.

A quick gaze through the early arrivals saw two Integras, a Subaru, a handful of Miatas, and perhaps a strange cluster closest to the shade of the trees; A grey first gen 300ZX Turbo with faded paint, a glistening red first gen Rabbit GTI, a gorgeous red BMW E30 M3, and a particular rusty blue Toyota Corolla. Clustered in the middle of the assorted cars with the hoods all propped open, were a bunch of young men animatedly talking to each other as they stared into the engine bay of the M3. Yet as the Alto pulled up next to the crusty Corolla, all attention was turned upon the diminutive Japanese econobox. Sticking out like a Maroon thumb in this gathering.

Cutting the engine, Rebekkah and Robyn climbed out of the small car, and instantly Rebekkah could feel the eyes of every single person in the parking look watching them. Not being able to help it, she blushed slightly as she reminded herself to grab that stupid, retard god damned purse. "_Act natural, remember...what would Cara do right now? What would she be doing..."_ Her thoughts repeated in her head as she smiled to Kevin, "Mornin!"

Kevin was suddenly punched in the back of his right shoulder, sending him stumbling forwards a few steps as one of the guys behind him laughed, "Don't just stand there asshole, start introducin' us!" Both Robyn and Rebekkah burst out laughing, thankfully easing the tension even as other competitors started to swarm in on the alien sight.

"Alrigh' alrigh'! Jesus man, you are such a fuckin prick you know that?" Kevin grinned back at his friend before turning to the girls. "Hey, mornin'. Sorry for this cock's attitude, but that just the way Carl is. Anyways, Robyn, Rebekkah; these punks are Carl, he drives the beat ass 300ZX," He pointed out a heavier set young man, his black hair cut into a short spike, and he wore a red t-shirt and blue jeans with several black grease stains embedded in the fabric. "This is Chris Skeen, goddam rich brat. Modded to shit GTI is his." Chris nodded and stepped forward, offering his hand. His bright strawberry blonde hair and naturally pale skin making him stand out a bit in this company. Wearing a button up blue shortsleeve, and khaki shorts, all clean seemed to say something about himself. "Dean is my brother, you can guess what he drives...M3."

Dean stood a fair bit taller than the others, and was obviously the eldest, wearing thin framed glasses, and shorter cropped hair, he seemed to carry a bit of sophistication with him. He was just wearing a yellow tshirt and some black denim shorts. "Don't mind Kevin, he get's a bit energetic. And if you'll turn around, there's Doug, Khaled, Wayne, Brandon..." and the rest of the names seemed to fade into a blur that Rebekkah already knew. Still however, she kept smiling, and nodding to everyone who was introduced.

After the initial round of introductions, she took the hint and bent into the open driver's side window to crack open the hood release. Walking to the front of the car she reached under the lip, found the catch and lifted the hood up to prop it with the rod that swung up from rad support. Fielding questions in rapid fire manner, she agreed that it was a tiny engine, yes it was actually awd, no it did not make much power, no, no limited slip diff, yes it had modified suspension, yes she had plans for it.

It was a fast, furious bout of question and answer that was customary when someone brought something outrageously different into a group of people who knew each other. It was injecting new unknown DNA into a tight-knit community.

Meanwhile, Robyn stood back and let them all ask their questions as she sighed, pulling at a string on her frayed backpack. _"Figures, hot chick gets the attention..."_ until she noticed Rebekkah pointing in her direction, "...nd she insisted on coming with, she's got several rolls of film ready to be used! She's an amazing photographer already!" The only thing that crossed Robyn's mind at that moment was, _"I am going to KILL that bitch!"_

Having bought herself breathing room, Rebekkah quickly dragged out both the manual, and the torque wrench. Flipping through the Japanese booklet was almost painful to her mind as she scanned the foreign language for numbers, until landing on a page showing a wheel, and a tire iron. Flipping to the next page, she found the chart, and with a bit of deduction, figured out the proper torque spec for the lug nuts. Quickly setting the torque wrench to the needed setting, she set about checking to make sure that her wheels were properly torqued down. As she circled to the passenger side of the car, she noticed that the horde that had engulfed her friend had thinned to just the four guys in the immediate group. Their eyes met and Robyn shot her a look of infinite vile, which she replied with a look of pure innocence while continuing to tighten the lugs.

As she was working on the second to last lugnut, she heard the sound of another car approaching and looked up to see a black second generation MR-2 pulling up beside the Alto, dwarfing it. Out climbed a average height Japanese male, with perhaps a bit of roundness to his features. Kevin of course, jumped up yelling out, "TOMO! Dude! You made it! Fuck yeah!"

Tomo of course, almost flinched at the greeting and nodded, "Yeah, but my parent's are not happy about this. But wait...what? Is that an Alto Works?"

Kevin nodded and Rebekkah waved over the hood, "Yeah, it's mine."

"Nice! My Uncle back in Japan tunes a bunch of these little kei-cars. He's built a few engines and race cars." He said as he walked over towards the car and its driver.

Rebekkah's head of course, shot upwards, looking at him with a shining light in her eyes. "Seriously?"

"Yes, he's always had them there before. Said he built them for the K4GP."

"What's the K4GP?"

"A race series back home," Tomo recalled, "an all kei-car race series. People can get very in depth with it; making replicas of old race cars."

Her eyes lighting up, Rebekkah grinned, "That is awesome!"

He nodded in response, "Unfortunately I do not know much more than that, I only recently have become fascinated with cars." He pointed to Kevin, "He is to blame."

Both Rebekkah and Robyn smirked as Kevin shrugged nonchalantly accepting such an accusation, before pointing to the tents, "Lets get you three registered now and start going over the course layout sheet."

Robyn quickly put up a hand of resistance, "Oh, I'm not going to be driving...no. I brought my camera to take pictures with however."

"Oh, damn, really? Hmm, well, we'll get you a pit-pass then. That way you'll have full access to the track to take your shots from."

Registration was a straight forward and simply process that was dispatched with quickly and efficiently...if a bit awkwardly for Anthony having to pretend he'd never done this before, although Kevin was more than helpful in getting Rebekkah through the paper work.

Walking back to the cars with temporary licenses, and track sheets in hand, they spread out one of the regular size pieces of paper with the map printed in rough black ink out over the hood of Carl's 300ZX. Robyn looked at the sheet with curiosity; it looked like a black squiggle being threaded through numerous in crosses. Over-laid on a faded grey map of the track itself. Kevin placed a finger at the point where it said start, and traced it as he gave details, "The start is on the track's Corner 2 exit. It is banked, and will level out as you approach the first turn. You will want to be wide here, because this circle thing has a weird apex caused by _this_ joint in the pavement." His finger was at a loop, then moving over to the small dead space on the exit of the corner, "Here. The track is uneven, and right here is a bad section, big inch or so shelf that can, and has damaged people's cars."

"From there, you're coming down to the backside corner, coming wide so that you can turn in and clip the apex at this corner here." His finger traced the line from the loop, to the next corner of the oval. Numerous black "x's" marked cone locations showing that the width of the track would be narrow, and come to a sharp corner half-way up the banked corner. "We aren't using the horn, so it turns into full throttle blast down the front straight until this hair pin. You can go around it either way, left or right doesn't matter. But it is less distance to go around to the left, which will be harder with the Alto because of the right-hand drive." His finger slid back up the black line to another corner, "You need to watch out here, especially, as there is a curb on the inside of the transition of the track to the infield. Hit it, and say goodbye to your suspension. The corner leads into the slalom; again, you can initiate either left or right, But with four cones, it might be best to start on the left to set yourself up for the exit corner."

Rebekkah nodded along with his narration of the track, trying to feign interest because she already knew this layout well. As Kevin finished, he looked over to Rebekkah with a grin, "Cool?" Nodding in response, Kevin beamed a little more until Carl shoved him out of the way.

"While you were busy showing off your knowledge of this simple ass track, Chris and I got to talkin' and..." The conversation carried on, leaving Rebekkah to take a moment to breathe and try to envision the track, plan out her lines and apexes while trying to factor in the hazards that Western presents.

It didn't take long however before the swap meet was over and the Autocross began. First by sweeping and cleaning the track, setting up cones, timing gear, and all the rest. As those who were taking part in the Autocross did the necessary volunteer work, Robyn quietly walked among the cars all lined up along the track, taking several pictures of the cars she thought of as interesting or unique. Finishing a roll of film, she sighed and pushed a slightly damn strand of hair out of her eyes. As it approached one in the afternoon, it began to feel as though someone had turned up the temperature just a few notches higher. "Damn you Rebekkah..." Robyn muttered under her breath as she returned to the Alto. She pulled the shorts they had picked up off the back seat, and switched out the rolls of film in the camera, pausing to grab several more to stuff into the pockets of the shorts. Standing at the edge of the track with the sun beating down blinding light, she scanned the track for a hiding spot to change...and then realized that behind her was empty space, and the billboards at the top of the banking would provide her the perfect privacy.

Walking along the row of cars towards the track entrance, she noticed that some people had broken away from the track preparation and had begun to fiddle with their cars, or rather, take excess stuff out of them. At the opening of the corner wall, she pivoted around it, her feet once quiet on the asphalt, now crunching and grinding across the loose gravel. This area was much less tended than the rest of the track, with clumps of weeds growing here and their, long tall stalks of some kind of vegetation. It seemed quieter here too, the commotion of people's voices distant over the corner wall, letting her heard the sound of the machinery at work in the industrial park behind the speedway, and the sound of the birds in the forest that was a little ways away to her right. Ahead were three short rows of mangled looking cars, some still having remains of their once bright and gaudy race livery. It was here that she rested the camera and shorts on the hood of one of the derelicts, and after taking a second to make sure she was alone, she quickly pulled off the pants and for less than a second, relished what felt like a cool breeze on her bare thighs before pulled the shorts on.

Plucking her pants and camera from the hood of the car with faded and scratched black and yellow flames, she turned around and started walking back to the main part of the track. Walking back to the Alto she found Rebekkah just opening the passenger door, "Hey, almost time I see?"

Rebekkah looked up and back towards the voice and nodded, "Yeah, just gotta get all loose objects out, you know...flying CD cases can be a bit of a distract-Ahah! I knew you'd want the shorts!"

Sighing while rolling her eyes, Robyn smirked, "Don't rub it in. Anyways, I'm going to go take a walk around the inner, grassy...circle-"

"Infield."

"Ah, yes, infield, to find some place to take pictures, that okay?"

"Yeah," Rebekkah nodded while standing up, pulling out her purse in one hand and the mostly empty CD wallet in the other. "Just stay towards the inside, try to avoid being on the outside edge of a corner. Don't want to get hit by a 2 ton mistake!"

Pausing for a moment as the ramifications sink in, Robyn smirks and laughs, "Good advice!" Dropping her pants against the turn wall, where Rebekkah had left her purse, she walked down the bank and headed towards the infield, looking for that might give a good angle. Remembering the basic course layout in her mind, she tried to picture how the cars would be at any given point, and soon located six possible locations.

It wasn't long before the action started. A couple stock vehicles (other than Rebekkah's) started out, and Robyn practiced with them. Leading them, following them, panning with them, snapping a picture as she moved to follow them, never stopping her movement. For the most part, Robyn left the film out of the camera, using this as pure practice without wasting film. Then the group switched to the one in which most of the guys were running.

Loading a roll of ISO 80 into the camera, Robyn estimated the light levels, the effect she desired from the pictures and closed her eyes as she ran the numbers in her mind. _Film is slow, fucking bright afternoon sun...less depth of field so about f6.1 and speed. 500? Try it._ Setting the camera up with her 70-210mm telephoto lens in place, she pulled out a small notepad and pen from her backpack and flipped to a page. She wrote down the date, and the numeral two, followed by the settings on the camera. She followed by writing the identical numeral on the empty film canister. She was almost finished when the first car of the group started, the raucous noise of the engine piercing her thoughts as she looked up, it was already starting it's turn for the first loop, or donut or whatever they called it. Scrambling she dropped her pen and the empty canister, fumbled for her camera that hung from her neck, but by the time the first little boxy car had gone past, she was too late to bother taking a shot of it. Grumbling, she quickly put away her pen, pad of paper and empty case, and got ready for the second car.

After near the end of the class's run, the roll was finished. Robyn casually rewound the film, watching the remaining runs. Putting the spent film back into its canister, she dropped it into her open backpack while fishing a fresh roll out of her pocket. After loading the Ilford into the camera, she proceeded to change the settings, this time using a smaller aperture and a slower shutter speed. Settling on F11 and 160th of a second shutter. Where if the previous photo's turned out, everything should be nice and clear, but the background would be out of focus, now she was trying to get motion blur with just the car itself in sharp focus.

Anthony eyed the car and start line ahead with eagerness and curiousity. _How the hell do I launch this thing?_ Ran through his mind as he waited. The driver ahead of him revved his engine up slightly, the V8's loping idle giving way to a low thunder. Suddenly the car launched, the stiff suspension barely squatting as it did. Anthony shrugged, low power, all wheel drive...As the signaler raised his flag, Anthony simply floored the accelerator, clutch in, first gear selected. The three-pot suddenly jolted to life snarled and spat above the turbo's hissing air. The flag dropped and Anthony dropped the clutch, the sudden application to torque caused the tires to slip a little before the gained traction, bogging down the engine slightly as the car lurched forwards. Regaining its composure, the engine revved hard until Anthony kicked the clutch in and shifted into second, releasing the clutch and the car surged towards the what he thought was the turn in point for the donut, just lifting the throttle was enough to dive into the corner with stunning alacrity.

Blinking Anthony held the throttle in position, as he cut the apex and floored it as he carried through for a wide exit on the donut to miss the uneven pavement as the two sections of track met. Accelerating to the wall and shifting into third, he sliced to the apex marked by the cone to the straight that cut the track's banked turn into a down and then uphill run to a sharper left hand corner that lead to the front straight and the hairpin. As the Alto left the banking, he shifted into the fourth of the transmissions five tightly spaced gears, keeping the engine in the meat of its power. Siding up to the wall just inches from his own door was a slightly unnerving experience, when he was much more used to it being half a car-width away from himself. Hitting his braking point, he swiveled his heel onto the brake pedal and pressed hard on it, keeping his toes on the gas as his left foot punched the clutch in. Braking hard, he cursed, and let off the brakes early as he finished the shift into third, the engine suddenly bogged again, causing him to furiously shift down to second, before he even entered the hairpin, swinging around the hair-pin to the left, his face contorted in a grimace, he hustled the car to the next corner, shifting back into third.

Cutting the turn wide, missing the apex cause him to enter the slalom at the wrong angle, as he sawed the wheel back and forth, he felt the car shudder as he punted a cone off the track and into the infield. Punching the gas out of the slalom, he cut hard right and finished in the stop box, before moving out and rolling around to get back in line. Punching the steering wheel out of frustration as he rolled to a stop behind the heavily modified Camaro, he paused himself in the middle of his thoughts to recollect his mind. New car with vastly different performance characteristics. He just needed to learn from them. Analyzing the corners one by one, he realized that he was going too slowly overall. The car was light as hell and had more grip than he was utilizing. Braking for the hairpin needed to be later, the discs were strong up front and the car weighed nothing. The braking point for his old car was no longer valid. Nor was the gearing the same. Second out of the hairpin this time. Second gear.

The second run was quite improved, working to maintain the momentum that the car had as much as possible to make up for its lack of power paid dividends in the time, shaving off damn close to two seconds. As the end of the class' run, he packed the little Alto in his spot and pulled off his helmet, getting his hair trapped between his grip and the helmet as he did. Muttering under his breath, movement in the corner of his eye alerted him to someone approaching. Turning around he was confronted by Kevin, Dean, and Robyn. Slightly damp hair was clumping in the side of his vision and as he was about to turn and look inside the car for an elastic, he remember the trick Robyn had showed him and pulled on off his right wrist as he grinned to welcome his new friends. "How'd I do?" He questioned, trying to be as innocent as he could trying to remember to pretend that he'd never done this before while he semi-fumbled his hair into a pony tail. Hopefully these two wouldn't notice the lack of speed and ease most women would do that with.

Kevin and Dean looked at her with a bit of shock in their expression, while Robyn just looked impressed. "That...you're SURE you've never done this before?" Kevin shook his head, "Seriously, first run yeah, was shit. But everyone's first ever run is shit. But your second, and the way you recognized your mistakes was...newbs don't usually do that!"

Dean nodded in agreement, "Yeah, usually the second run is almost an imitation of the first. But both had something weird, getting that close to the wall on your first time takes more than guts. That's plain fearlessness, or blatant stupidity. Maybe both. Either way, you have talent."

Rebekkah couldn't help it, she grinned enthusiastically. "Thanks I guess, it was just exhilarating driving like that!"

Robyn chuckled softly behind to two guys, "Well, I hope the pictures of it turn out okay, cause I think the one of your second run should be just about perfect!"

After a second round of runs for all the classes and some corner work for Rebekkah, the Autocross was over. When the cleanup was done, and Rebekkah and Robyn were loading their belongings back into the Alto, Kevin jogged up with two slips of paper, handing each of them one, "Hey, me and the guys are headed out to grab some food, prolly to Romeo's or something. You two in?"

Rebekkah shook her head, "Sorry, I gotta get home and take care of my dog and get ready for work tomorrow. "

Nodding, Kevin smiled, "That's cool, anyways, those are the numbers of the guys an' I. Need anything, give us a call. Kay?"

Both of the girls nodded, with Robyn answering first this time, "Right. Good night!"

As they climbed into the Alto, and strapped in, Robyn commented, "Thanks. Today was really...different. But fun. I haven't had a good day like this in a while..." Her voice trailing off as she realized just how long it had been. Her eyes lowered as she sighed. "Unf!" She muttered as she found herself shoved into the door of the car, "HEY!"

Anthony looked over at her grinning, "Snap outta it, tonight gets worse...or better. I'm not sure how much exactly you like rifling through the history of Rebekkah Hall, and laughing at me, but I kinda need to know more before I go back to work. Tomorrow." He turned the car on as he finished talking, shoulder checking as pulling out with the rest of the crowd to head home.

"True...But then..." She paused, thinking of it, "Perhaps you should take tomorrow off? Sick day...cause well, I'd say this qualifies. I mean, you pulled today off as a girl to total strangers fairly well, but trying to pull of being someone else entirely in front of people who know you? I think that deserves a solid day of research and practice, at the very least."

Grumbling and lowering his head to the point that he almost rested his chin on the steering wheel, he sighed. "Dammit. You sure I can't just...you know. Die in a fire before then? Might hurt less..."

"Fire? Doubt it. I've always considered that as one of the most painful ways to die. I mean what, with all the burning, breathing in fire and smoke and such..."

"Ugh."

As Rebekkah started opening the front door, a small black muzzle that had, until just this moment been barking loudly, wedged itself between the door, and the white brick planter box just inside, and pried the door open with remarkable strength before the small dog burst outside, scrabbled down the stairs and just made it to the grass before she squatted. "Oh damn, I'm sorry Phantom! I'll make your dinner special tonight, okay?" He turned to Robyn and motioned for her to go on inside, as she passed, he let the screen door close behind her as he started back down the stairs.

Robyn however held the screen door open and asked, "How about I get Phantom's dinner ready? What does she need?"

"Oh, uh-" He turned his head to look back as the girl with her short black hair, "A scoop of her food. It's in the big cat-food print tin on top of the microwave. Maybe add some hot water to it?"

Smiling, Robyn nodded and headed inside to get the dog's food ready. Moving into the dinning room, she slung her backpack down and to the floor by the back wall and continued into the kitchen. Looking to the microwave she found the rather obvious tin...being about a foot and a half in diameter and about the same in height, it was hard to miss. She looked around the tin for a scoop, but found none, but upon opening the tin, found what looked to be an old porcelain tea cup, white with a ring of blue flowers. She dug it into the kibble, and dropped the contents into the metal bowl between her feet with a rattling clatter. Returning the tea cup to the tin, and closing the lid, she stooped to pick up the bowl and in three long steps, turned on the tap to wait for the hot water to arrive.

The view out the corner windows was spectacular, as it seemed to be the case for this house. Large sweeping views of the Sooke harbour and basin, stretching out past a spit of land and the hills of East Sooke draped in lush evergreens. Beyond, the Juan De Fuca sparkling and glistening in the evening summer sun. If it were not for the power lines crossing her view, it would be flawless. Snapping herself out of mentally painting the view, she noticed the steam rising from the sink. Sliding the bowl under the hot water for just a second, she shut off the tap and turned around, swirling the contents of the bowl as she strode to return the bowl from where she found it.

Moving into the dinning room, she pulled out a chair but paused before she sat down. Looking over to her backpack she took a step and stretched down to pick up the old decorated sack and placed it on the wooden table. Taking a seat at the head of the table to have the best view out the window that she could, she opened her backpack and fished out the pad of paper with her notes from earlier. As she mulled them over, the events of the day were relived; the sight of the cars, the sound of the engines and tires, the smell of hot asphalt and tortured rubber. It was an experience to say the least.

It wasn't long before there was barking at the door, a metallic clank and a low squeal of old springs and a blank thundering blur swept behind Robyn and into the kitchen to being happily gulping moist kibble. Rebekkah appeared soon after, smirking while breathing a little harder than normal. "Better shape than I ever have been, and that dog would _still_ run the legs off of me if I let her!"

Robyn couldn't help but laugh.

"Anyways, I'm starving, you hungry?"

Pausing, Robyn thought about it, and shrugged, "Kinda? Not starving anyways, why, what are you thinking?"

"Not sure." He twisted his mouth a little in thought and shrugged. "You? Just remember; if you say 'pizza', I shall nickname you for evermore; 'Big Italy'. Got it?"

Her features slackened like that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "Right. I'd kick you in the nuts-" Her retort suddenly cut off, leaving her even more stupified.

"If you could find them! Which, if you do...kick them, before I find a way to be a guy again...I'd really rather not go through that pain!"

Chuckling Robyn shook her head, "But wouldn't that defeat the point of it all?"

"True," He shrugged, "But come on, that'd be cruel!"

Finally Robyn just snickered and shook her head. "So, food?"

"Hmm, true." With that, Anthony wandered into the kitchen and started opening the cupboards in a routine sequence. Grumbling at the lack of anything appealing, he turned to the fridge and found a pound of ground beef thawed on a plate. "Hunh...burgers?"

"Yeah, sure. Where from?"

Dropping his head and looking under his arm to bellow, "_What?_ No no no no! Home made, real, authentic fuckin burgers woman! Jesus, you've never made, or had home made burgers?"

"Well...no...not th-"

"Oh right, senor douchebag. Gotcha. Well, gonna have to change that. First, need buns."

After eating the pair settled in to do a bit more research on Rebekkah. As before, Robyn took to the computer, checking things through Rebekkah's Myspace account, youtube, email, pretty much everything while Anthony flipped the pagers in her fuzzy monkey journal.

_19/10/02_

_The first place I looked at today was...disgusting. Mold, dead bugs on the carpet, water damage, everything. When I asked the scumlord about this shit, he just shrugged as if it didn't matter. Yeah, my health doesn't matter you shit head? Ugh._

_Second place was nice, but just wasn't what I was expecting. Seemed really expensive for the size of it. Besides, it didn't even have a stove. Just a pair of hot plates. Bullshit. Third place was pretty sweet. A separate bachelor suite with a full kitchen, albeit small stove and fridge. Full bathroom, really nice. Stupidly close to work too! I hope I get it, landlord was pretty nice and I'm hopeful for it. Commute would seriously be like 5 minutes, instead of this hour and a half long drive of pain!_

_20/10/02_

_Although hopeful for that third place yesterday, I decided to look at a few more; just in case. Honestly, nothing stood out except for the last place again. Strange. It's in a duplex, a three bedroom place with two guys; Jason and Mike. They both seem like pretty nice guys...for guys. Apparently they've been friends since elementary and their friend and previous roomie Trevor just moved Alberta to work in the oil fields. Neither of them drive since they both work close by, so I'd be able to park the Alto in the garage. Finally! No more washing bird shit off my car! Seems promising as well, at the very least will make a good backup plan to the bach in Saanich. Only really downside is the distance from work, but it still shave like 40m off the commute, which is acceptable atleast._

That was good, same roommates. Course, he suspected as much since it was the same house. That would at least be...awkward as all hell. As Anthony began turning to the next page, Robyn made some kind of noise, looking up from the page, he eyed Robyn and shrugged, "What's up?"

"Well, not much really. Looks like a month ago Rebekkah broke up with her boyfriend, Aaron. Aside from posting about crap music, posting party pics and shit. In her email account, it look like you and your sister have plans to meet up in Van about two weeks from now. Looks like she's got tickets to some show for you...lucky bitch!" She stuck her tongue out at him and then got back to looking through the email.

Anthony shook his head, still not used to the feeling of hair brushing his shoulders as he did so, but ignored it and read through more of the journal entries. Most of it was trivial things, some parts regarding her opinions on current events that he couldn't remember and other general things that as individual entries meant little, but as a whole, helped him to understand more about Rebekkah and how she worked.

About an hour later he ran across the entry of when Rebekkah and Aaron started going out, and the entries seemed to get more frequent as Rebekkah wrote more about their relationship. Some parts of which, Anthony best left skipped as they just felt exceeding awkward to read. Arousal at the moment was just unnatural. It turned out however that Anthony started trying to dominate Rebekkah's life, and she eventually ended the relationship after about four months. "Hunh..."

"Hmm, something up?"

"Oh...yeah. Turns out Aaron was a prick, but they still lasted 4 months. Still beats my longest relationship. But...I guess in this instance, that isn't a good thing."

"Ahh."

"Anything else found in her mail?"

"Nope...henh, sorry. Kinda got side-tracked and been looking at a camera review site for the past bit." Robyn smiled sheepishly at him, hoping he wouldn't get angry or anything.

"Ahhh, alright. Probably for the best, this shit is dry and making my head hurt. Besides, only one more month left to cover. And it keep bringing up weird questions in my head...like, had I been born female, WOULD I have ended up this close to how I was as a guy? Or would I be completely different? Like, did this changing of files bullshit try to minimize the alteration of reality to coincide as close as possible, or is this just the natural progression of how Rebekkah was raised? Is it fate or something that our lives seem to have close parallels?"

Robyn looked at him curiously and shrugged for lack of an answer. "Well, here's something to over ride that: God and Angels exist."

"True...apparently."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I am going to hell?"

Laughing Robyn shook her head, "Wrong thread of the question: What about Buddha, Allah? What about all the other religions of the world? Does that mean that all other religions are bullshit, and that billions of people believe in false gods? Does it mean that God goes by many names, and the Jesus is Mohammed, is whoever else? Or does it mean that all gods are part of some worldly Pantheon? And if that is the case, do they have tea and crumpets together while playing God chess, or are they locked in some cosmic struggle?"

Anthony paused, considering all of that.

"I mean, to be honest, I always considered myself an Atheist and now...That's pretty much fucked because now I _know_ God and Angels exist. And if they exist, so does Hell. And if Hell exists, does that mean I am going there since I never believed in God before? And since God does exist, why does he...she...it let all this horrible shit happen? I mean, I saw this quote once, 'If God is willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. If God is able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. If God is both able and willing? Then where does does evil come from? If God is neither willing, nor able? Then why call him God?' I mean, I makes a lot of sense to me, since...well, the world is full of evil shit, and it keeps perpetuating and never stops.

If God can fix it, why doesn't it? If it can't, then why not? Or does God just not give a shit? Are we some experiment? Some plaything?" Robyn paused for a moment to breathe.

"I don't know. I don't know if we CAN know the explanation for it all."

Silence fell upon them as they stewed in their own thoughts of their now fractured views of the world. The ominous silence lasted until Phantom herself became aware of it and nudged Anthony's leg with her muzzle to get his attention. Offering a small snort of a chuckle and a smirk, he looked down to the little black dog and rubbed his hand on the crown of her head, flicking one of her floppy ears around between his fore and index fingers. "Smart pup reminded us silly people that we shouldn't dwell on shit we cannot change. Mindless action movie time?"

Robyn blinked out of her solitude and looked at Anthony quizzically. "Right. Only a guy can think like that...but yeah, that sounds good enough for me right now. Any more thinking of that shit and I'll end up with blood running from my ears or something."

Deciding to walk to the store rather than drive, as the sun was setting and the air was finally beginning to cool off, Anthony pointed out a pair of local restaurants that made decent food, and that the corner store had been there since before he was born and that while they never had the largest selection of ice cream available, they did make those "two scoops" count. At the video store Robyn stopped them as they were scanning the new releases wall, and picked up a DVD with a red jacket. "This. No option, I haven't seen it yet, but it is supposed to be amazing!" Anthony turned to look at the case and read the title, '28 Days Later'.

"Oh...shit, neither have I!"

Renting the title for the 1 day allotted, they returned to the house and Anthony got the movie started in the living room. Anthony settled in on the floor laying down on the old persian rug with a throw pillow under his elbow, while Robyn lounged on the pink-tinted couch. From the opening screens of violence and chaos being shown to the monkeys, they were hooked, and Anthony barely noticed Phantom laying down against him.

As Jim standing in front of the monument to the missing people, let go of the scrap of paper and turned to walk away, as the music faded out to the ominous silence; the old phone with the mechanical bell shattered the tension, causing Robyn to scream as she jumped to the other end of the couch, away from the noise that was right behind her head. Rebekkah squawked out of surprise, her right arm that had been supporting her flailing out in surprise as her torso thudded into the persian carpet. Phantom yelped and scampered out of the room faster than they could blink.

Hearts pounding, both of them looked at the phone with both disbelief and fear as it rang again. Rebekkah, twitching slightly fumbled with the remote and hit pause before standing and grabbing the phone on the fourth ring. "H-hello?"

"Oh thank god you're there! Where the hell have you been? I tried to get ahold of you friday, yesterday, almost all of today! I thought Phantom wasn't being taken care of! I was worried sick that something had happened to you! Jesus Rebekkah, I-I-..."

Anthony sighed heavily, "Mom, I'm sorry. The past few days have just been really, REALLY weird but you don't need to worry. I'm fine, Phantom is fine, I was here yesterday morning. The cats are happy and healthy. If we had fish still, they'd be fine too. How are you?"

"Ohhh, okay. That's good dear. Well the flight over wasn't bad, but the lady at the terminal was so impatient and bossy. She kept trying to take my purse, but I was just trying to help her find what she was looking for! I mean really, had she just told me what she was looking for, I could have found it for her much faster...But she's doing alright now, bless her. She's a strong one. But she's stubborn too, the nurses are having a hell of a time getting her to eat or take her vitamins. But sh-"

"Mom, _what the hell are you talking about?_ Why does the airport woman have nurses giving her vitamins?"

"Oh, no. She doesn't have nurses giving her vitamins, but she wouldn't tell me what she wanted to see in my purse. Had she told me, I could have foun..."

Grimacing with frustration Anthony, "Stop mom, jesus christ! What the hell are you talking about? Who has nurses and vitamins, and why the hell did some lady want to look in your purse? You're not making any fucking sense!"

"Well..._Fine!_" The line went dead as his mother hung up the phone, leaving him with a dull axe wedge of pain growing in the back of his head.

Robyn looked at him with trepidation and worry, "That sounded...weird?"

Sighing as he settled the receiver on the hook before wrapping his slender hands around the back of his neck and slowly kneading the muscles, trying to release a bit of the tension that might be causing the headache. "Yeah. Talking to my mom when she's fucking plastered is like trying to listen to half of a regular phone conversation. She switches topics mid stream, starts in the fucking middle of what she is trying to say, and cannot, for the life of her, explain what the hell she is talking about in anything remotely approaching simple, normal terms." He paused to pinch the bridge of his nose, and sighed again.

"Ugh...fucking drun-Oh, shit, I shouldn't say that about your mom!"

Slowly standing, he shook his head, "Don't worry about it. I don't. Anyways...I think I'm gonna take two tylenol and crash. Mood to watch the movie is utterly shattered, and even just from that I feel drained. Tomorrow I'll call in to work and let them know I'm not coming, and we'll figure out how to train me more or some shit.

"Sorry bout this and all...but good night for now. See ya tomorrow."

Robyn nodded solemnly, "Yeah, see you in the morning I suppose..."

Thinking about what just happened, Robyn sighed, feeling rather helpless. Sure her problems with Gord were what most would call worse...but having your mother be batshit crazy while drunk wasn't much of an improvement. Then it hit her like an anvil, the waves of exhaustion made her feel like each limb weighed five hundred pounds. The lack of sleep on friday night, the emotional and psychological toll this horseshit was causing just seemed join forces and lock her brain in a submission hold. "Perhaps bed is a good idea 'bout now." Mumbling as she wandered to the guest bedroom, leaving the TV and equipment on, as well as the lights since there were three light switches at the front door to control...1 light.

As soon as she was under the covers, she let the sleep take control and drag her off into dreams of random weird things that she would never remember.


End file.
